Recent poetry.

I've Been Here Before.

The balcony
overlooking black unseen waves
the ripples of water splashing against rocks
bridge in the distance
lit and shining over the sound
I think of you
the late-night conversations
nestled under sheets
telephone on my face
short laughter dimmed in private
wistful declarations of affection
"can't wait to get back,
can't wait to get back."
deja vu
I see her face and your face
her body in the dark
your body in the dark
"i've been here before,
i've been here before."

you
on the subway
"I'm going
to fuck your brains out
when you get back."
she
in the cold winds of newport
"i'll wear a
a skirt to the airport
when I come to get you."
"i've been here before,
i've been here before."

you
short, round, soft
warm and nuzzling your face
against the rough cheek stubble
she
short, round, soft
warm and nuzzling her face
against the rough cheek stubble
"this wasn't supposed to happen,
this wasn't supposed to happen."

I
caught off guard
too many things at once
memories never disappear
"i've been here before,
i've been here before."

barges on the water
in the morning
whipping gales,
waves pulsing toward the shore
silent except the birds wind sea
smoke and hair tossed around
gazing out at the house on the rock
forlorn and alone
the timing all off
waiting to escape from escape
wishes
you've never been here
you've never been here
"i've been here before,
i've been here before."

March 26, 2008

-----
flames in the night.
red and orange light
blue on the flanks
advancing upward and outward.
heat pours out like hoofs pounding ground,
feel it from a mile away.

the sky has darkened into coffee
with little flavor crystals
(when did they stop doing that anyway?)
the fire illuminates our little world
our equally sized minds
we contemplate the miracles
in comfortable resigned silence.

i'm taking photographs
that are meaningless.
my mind has so many reasons for them.
sees so many things
in the driven outburst in the metal pit
clattering fuel dropped in
fizzing moisture and popping bark
crackles light distant lightning.

the little shavings, pine needles and underbrush
flare up, kicking up a ruckus.
the larger logs, the foundation
grab hold of the raging screams of the needles
and ignite, slowly, laboriously, contemplative.

we had a perfect fire.
it lit, it flourished, it thrived.
it began to die, so we added new stuff to it
to keep it alive.
it cried out to the heavens
destructive and warming and necessary.
it almost died, but a soft gust of fresh air
brought it back from the brink, a small flame reignited.
we added more to it.

then, when we were ready
to accept the inevitabilities of it,
we let is slowly smoulder out,
watching with understanding nods
as the last trickles of flame melted away
into long-glowing embers and ash.

April 19, 2008
----
The Doe.
we pulled out of the taco bell
into a reservoir of cars
having missed the fire engine
blocking three lanes ahead.

"what the fuck?" I asked to nobody,
perturbed that quality time would be spent
sitting in another pointless traffic jam.

"I don't know," she answered
while craning her neck
trying to move around two large trucks
caught in the overflow.

The fire truck moved back a lane
allowing the turbines to turn
and a trickle of cars bore through.
we meandered through the current
other cars graciously damming the flow behind us.

i turned over my shoulder,
anticipating two cars sitting idle after
a noisy altercation earlier.
twisting in my seat
i saw the doe, mounted on the curb
its neck twisted backward behind it.
it tried pulling its head up
succeeded briefly, vainly,
before the head dropped back down
a glut of blood dropping from behind clenched teeth
trailing the curve of the curb
leaking out into the pavement.

"oh god" she said, eyes forward on the road.

"oh, wow," I said, eyes backward on the road.

the head of the doe rose again
fell again
more blood
streaming out
more streams
flowing to the asphalt sea.

and then nothing.

we branched off at the delta
to ponder the course of our lives
poorly hide our glances at one another
lay down on the bed and be content
and left the doe on the asphalt
mounted on the curb.

April 24, 2008.