Penelope in Moonlight

yes because I never did a thing like that as to want you in the way the world finds me broken since the beach all moonlight and hands or your lips telling mine to shelter in your own yes I thought you might have held me there forever and wondered how our bodies could return again to that shame that is not ours O if this cornered time shadow of a body could release itself again to that moment I could show you love the way we might have found it again on that beach but it all looks different under moonlight now and our lips have grown old with words and our hands with denial but you hold me still yes through tears I feel that buried place again where you said I was a flower of the mountain yes that is what I was a flower in eyes delicate enough to realize the same yes you seemed to know or feel what it was to be a man and I asked you to ask me again yes how you kissed me beneath that theater of the moon my mountain flower yes and I said yes I will Yes.


… lost somewhere between midnight and the heart,

lamplight kneeling at the end of its march,
the musical hush of darkness


love drifts at the end of an eyelash and I reach
to guard it in my palms

where the only map is a rose in blue,
and the fallen petals hold for our return
as the perfume fades and I remember

only the motion of my voice
as it was before

broken as I let it go

all for you, all for you

falling, falling

the unromantic expression on your tongue
reflects the same expression my eyes
feel within a sunset set over,
within a sunset set over,
over again.

in that shadow of a shadow we walk
until its dark enough not to tell:
feelings so far beneath us
as not to feel
the night
on our skin.

love comes here to fade away
someplace between this heart and that–
the unwanted creation left
above or behind,
we cannot tell.

we: the hidden.
we: the pretend.
failing eclipse into a sunset set
over, set over,

Bluebird Blues

there’s a bluebird
more shadow than song
perched in my heart– reformed,
recast in steel: the inward
cage, holding in a melody
like strangled air
beneath an ocean.
I say, stay alive,
enough to break beyond
the fallen feathers grown
extinct, where the night
is really oh so close
and we’ll remember
what hope is anyway
if I we could only find
the key.

there’s a bluebird lost
where feathers have forgotten
feathers, where the
bones all digest and
the whistle will not yield.
and I call and call
where hope is buried in itself
and find myself calling
again, again.