for the ides

some shorties:

1
struck by shame
at my own horrifying
honesty, but i will
own what i say.
a keystroke to send it
into digital oblivion
and i could yet again
hide and deny
but will not.

2
the baby's restless.
i wanted to hold
something else
entirely, alas.
not that i thought
it was assured,
but i had hopes.

3
the problem is
there are no words
to dance around it.
no accurate analogy.
it needs a language
at once raunchy
and romantic
but to be other
than obvious
is to cheapen it.



outta the box?

reach out of the box
and the lid slams
down nails and all.
i'm skewed and skewered
right through the
drink, for a minute
it was OK.
unsure if things
have really changed,
it could just be me.
i know better than to
trust perception when
i'm sober but right
now . . .



where be my feet

not too many opinions
i consider worthwhile so
i would prefer to
have it straight out.
i never meant to interfere.
i'm not much on
calculated manipulation
and have no desire
to participate
beyond the roles
i play now.
by some twist of
circumstance, an
errant thought floats
and i am surprised
enough to analyze it,
and then own it
for what it was
- a moment of lonliness
and a reaction-
it somehow set hooks
and moved things
around and all i
want to know is
exactly where i stand.



cast in plaster

no faith in my ability
never sure of acceptance
my lonely makes me raw
casts me in plaster
when i want to move.
when i want to reach out
the crazy gains strength.
if i knew how to hide,
if i could bring myself
to wear some face,
if i could pick a simple
definition,
i could get past the small talk
and speak truth.



wet

take it slow and stately
while i'm feeling fast and
frantic. i want more
than anyone has
energy to give me, i want
hours that exist
only for the two of us,
i want to know it was
you when i stand and
the muscles ache, i
want one day transplanted
from our hazy genesis,
when our union brought
us to godhood, i want
to be nearly sacred again,
building our power against
the struggles to come.



surveying possible damage

surveying the walls
a little removed.
my long vision isn't
great and i'm not
sure what i see.
could be a shadow
from clouds, could
be a stain from the
last high tide of shit,
could be a breech
somehow blasted in
the nights of drunken
revelry. i had hoped
to make some sort of
plan for restoration
or repair but i
can't get closer or
perform in-depth analysis
without danger of
worsening that which
i seek to cure. so
again i wait, who is
the most impatient.



held over by popular demand

i would take it back
but i leave my truth
laying out on the table.
would have lied if i could.
the change from circle
to collection of random
threads was never
intentional but now i'm
seemingly the problem.
although i see things
clearly there isn't a
phrase i could use
and still retain what
small dignities i have left.
it was over for me before
anyone else knew it existed
and although i'm not
feeling it, it's been
held over by
popular demand.