FINDNG OURSELVES.

the aloneness has a color

something blurred by memory,

something like a stranger's face.

you've got all the answers

when questions are as indiscernible

as passing clouds.

I know that you

can feel lonesome

even in a crowd.

I remember you the way

that a man wants to be remembered-

no arcs or frames

just waves of precious metal

a Mercedes with a moon roof wide open-

stars that were never really

our friends, anyhow.

Somehow you have a language with the beach,

the way kings have coins for eyes.

When I remember you,

I remember finding ourselves

alone in a room.

I remember finding ourselves

at extraordinary distances.

I remember finding ourselves

deep, in trouble.

I remember finding ourselves.

Dont Take It Personally.

somehow,

it's always

just more

about me.

THE VIEW FROM YOUR BEDROOM.

you have eyes like a light house.

a life of canaries,

in full song,

a garden in quiet bloom,

a library that cracks spines,

in the living room.

you somehow have a shimmer,

like even in the winter,

you live by the summer.

CALIFORNIA MAKES ME FOGGY FROM THE INSIDE.

Car Crash Without the Car

The electricity alone should have a caliber,
anthromorphized from lions to rain to
the sermon of a Southern preacher;
bellowing with volcanic ash deep in his throat,
the shine of a dusty sun, the color of a yolk.

you keep it coming,
you keep it awake,
you keep alive,
for no one's sake.

I'll break the moon in half,
it bleeds opals in your absence,
and I laugh and laugh, drink up
til I'm sick, your ghost sticks me
like syrup, stick em up.

the shock brings up the luster:
it brings up the light, like new pistols,
it brings up the writing on the wall,
our own Egypt-
it brings up the past like a kiss,
full of arsenic.

Love passed us on the street
with out looking up from the paper-
it was asleep at the wheel,
it had dust in it's eyes,
it was a blinding light,
you can't even blame it-

love lives under your fingernails,
we all don't notice,
until we taste it.