Approaching

we’re bathed in starlight

the approaching Atlantic

 

somehow separating our future selves

tearing our vessels apart

 

he and I are both gossamer

compared to what’s ahead

 

but more so my friend

as his step is really a trot

 

as we are two different kinds of beings

still I feel something every time our eyes meet

 

in doing this we simultaneously slip on ice

then catch ourselves

 

I with my feet

he with his paws

 

and so we continue like nothing happened

waiting while walking to encounter

 

the vast and inconceivable ocean

although he does not see this yet but smells

 

the sea’s salty breath

he is content

 

in the sparse topography of this crest

soon we find the end of land

 

I hold him in my hands

against the backdrop of blended sky and water

 

feeling his heartbeat

and wondering if Orion’s Belt is proof of eternal life

Stop Seeing Straight

Tangle inky eyes by lifting

mental blinds. It’s in

the sunrise of your spine,

which is bent but not broken.

Spend intimate fluid and

let it all soak in.

Mending liquid wounds

with booze, so typical

of you, meaning me,

(since this is the only

way I know how to

speak to myself).

Seep into Skin

In foreign air where your ancestors breathed

no longer than a century ago,  you

comforted a belle whose fiance was

lost in twisted charred metal. Look back and

think about how that should have been your fate;

the poison in his system only tasted

sweet for so long. When words came out of his

mouth the acrid smell of death lingered, and seminal thoughts

rush back through your mind and below your spine

in tidal waves of lust, touching thighs under

the table, that was enough of a contact

in order to transfer the tension of

a dead man and his now tranquil lover.

Accidental gravity remains as

the only not so distant memory.

This Flame Consumes Water

Yes, I am one who wastes far too many

of my sparse thoughts on the daily mundane,

so who am I to offer remedy

for beauty sprouting seemingly from plain

brown eyes? I watch as you try to get high

off residue, and you, my love, are far

from pathetic. Our flame is dignified

while licking cannabis in lieu of water.

Your tepid tongue intertwines with mine and

the ashes of my flesh combine with spit,

creating words I never thought I’d send

from my mind let alone my mouth and it

feels good, us. We felt good, we’re still good

at times, yet our mouths have been filled with blood.

Where the Usual Strangers Walk

whenever it’s about to

rain

your bones get

tired.

spending the day

working.

you were in the back of

my mind.

where the usual strangers walk.

sitting, listening to Spanish

music,

but through a boombox

in the center of Rittenhouse.

on the corner

watching

Big Pete play chess like

an invincible African king.