Ask

or has winter held my eyes
out the window to the peppery wind

or have my coats been clung to the roof
the loins of which bend under snow

or is the skirmish down in the street
a fist having just left my face

or is the sky a bare chested monster
whose breath chokes me every night

or is the funnel to the other side
just a way around my human

or are the arms i never had around
a nest for my disagreements with life

or is the hour's count too little
to be angry all the time

or has my mortality always dug a grave
that i wait to fill

or has the grave been quiet enough
for me to find my peace right here

for i came and stayed back 

hoping to never have to ask,
but i do...

Winter

the life in me mushrooms
like a wave inside the sea's belly
every morning the sky blanches
into white paper,smeared with fog
as the sensation of a distant night
hanging in the closet leaves me
a fossil of dreams rolled over and over
by light walking and then walking backwards
from the walls

they have lived with me as much as i have with them

She..

the sudden implosions of her chest
when she would stand out in the rain
crying into the gloves of silence
her man took off
while talking from the edges of his hands

the color of her cheeks
making shadows of raindrops
gummed to her warm skin

The sky dressed and undressed,
and only the raindrops having disappeared
off her face..

History

What happened to us?,
and whatever didn't
became real..

3 AM

Under the pandora of all street hymen's
she stood with her arm,resting like a pet
in the other,
i sniffed,customarily
for the place hounded my liver
but tickled my groin,
She strolled about
dropping voids on the street
i was walking onto
Her breasts were something
i had been looking for yesterday
when sleep had been murdered
by the pastiness of my life
Like an epiphany from the grave
my heart ruptured down my skeleton
which was separated by this unbearable distance
from her feet,for she ran and ran
into the sunset,into the hollering alleys
until i realized,she was sad
and i wanted to be
as i spat,on a man's shoe
and spent a lifetime passing that corner....

Water's aisle

Crusaders,hanging on to rungs
of old ladders
left cultural notes that crowd the streets

Vivian who was a large shadow
in one such place

often broke down,like a pot of all the opera
that was left in corners to rot
staged to faces that had nothing but the floor to look at,
His feet wouldn't move when he had to piss,
so he looked for a new place every night
after sitting in the sun to dry,all day

Home is where the heart is

Is it anatomy to be poor in thought
or accidental to be poor in putting
it to words...

Sitting by the street with no reasons for waking

I sit occupying the doorway
like a castle of fading rainbows
swept against the ankles of a door
opening into a street
that wears the flesh
of a winter graveyard
tread on by torsos,
devoid of skin
feeling for the last
colorful explosion of tears
across their eyes

My feet are dewy
with the reminiscence of
collapsing existences
condensing close to the ground
like buckling knees
of the brightest moment
under the dark side of the moon

Between me
and the next breath
free of metallic sounds
born in a basement,
is the voyage of a man
so naked,
a quintuplet of stars
would be his dogs
for the night's howling

Heaven it seems
is rolled up to its shin,
For the only smoke i see
is rising from between the lips
of a pregnant woman
who brings together
this morning for me,
with one little smile