Concrete Concubine

I am a kept woman, 

concubine to the King of Concrete. 

Do I amuse?  Draw you in?  Closer now, come in, come in.  I am a collector of men.  See how the land you pick through lies,  I have been told that I surprise... 
I have been told    in flashed winks  and smiles of anticipation  in rooms where I am merely decoration  that I unsettle. 
Do you dare?  Beware,  I handmaiden of high-rise  dwell in air and there lies  a paradise  many flatly strain to reach.

On Chesapeake

The sun teases the waves  like a matador teases a bull  with a red that registers  slow, violent reaction. 

The Hour of the Lamplighter

Brown leaves cling tenatively  as the hedge sneezes sidewalk chalk. 
Red bycicle and lamplight wait.  I, six years tenative  take little note. 
My tounge sticks out...  Snowflakes twirl in twilight

The Basement of Lost Fathers

In the household of the odd god  there is a basment for lost fathers.  Inside it smells dark and green;  like pipes and crackling leather. 
The heat defeats.  It is bare, like a lightbulb.  Iron rails  stare at creaking fans. 

Monsters

Loose cannon do you still cry 

when someone doubts  there's a monster in your closet  or claw beneath your bed?  Is your head  still stuffed with muffled screams  and toy soldiers?  What smolders  in your corner of rusting sighs? 
Your eyes are canyons sometimes  when light is right.  They frighten me  the way that monster in your closet  frightens you.  Stuffed gargoyle smile while  you grew I remembered.  

Times Square at Midnight

One  Electric  Spit  Of time.

Anything

I think and find  I wouldnn't mind  not doing anything at all  if it were you  I was not  doing anything at all  with.

Memory

I said goodbye  to your sleepy face  and you were gone. 
Now memory crawls  down the wall;  with a slow-steeping chill. 
It lands with a thud  and leaves a sorrow-black bruise. 

You And I

Time nails the dust  of rusting sighs to the wall. 
They fall  in disappointed fits  to sharred, fragmented bits  of expectancy. 
Remembrance skips  a record broken  to sharred, fragmented bits. 
They fall like a rusting sighs;  in disappointed fits.

Time

I try to touch you.  You disappear,  slip into the end of summer air  as though my fingers melted you. 
Time sucks in it's breath  slows it's measure  from polka to waltz. 
Rain echoes hollowly.

3am Love Song

I threw out all your letters,  tossed them into might have been wind  trying to forget  that the only me left  you kept when you left. 
At 3am in Richmond rain  you came.  You weren't the same. 
So I threw out all your letters.  Tossed them into been wind  trying to forget  that the only me left you kept. 
Moral: Never desire slippery fishes for their wishes. 

Gray Morning

In the morning flung with gray  sparrows kiss the puckering day. 
You are gone. 
I remember  your eyes smiled too.  The morning then was blue,  when I kissed the puckering you.

Ego

Now you dance on your head  as if you wanted the world  to take notice of you. 
You've little more motive  than exhebitionism. 
You, moving like that,  as though  the world were your mirror. 
The balance  is thrown off. 
You are so alone.

Goodbye

I was just going to say goodbye.  It has to be done.  It's just as much my fault,  I wanted to come.  I knew it a long time ago  looking at you  but what happened? 
Being with you  was like being kept alive  by a medicine dropper. 
Now, the morning  is in the midst of dawn  and I knew it long  ago  I have to go.  I was just going to say goodbye.

Drizzle on Drainpipes

You enter softly, like drizzle on a drain-pipe.  I feel the press of your hand on my wrist  long after you're gone.

Shut Up Drawers

In shut up drawers I keep memories of you;  like some keep letters and other hidden things,  they open rawly like bone and other white things. 
Cigarettes, loose pearls an old kid glove, I browse  through them when I feel most alone;  feel raw like bone,  like Christmas and snow in Virginia  and other white things. 
In shut up drawers I keep memories of you;  like some keep letters and other hidden things.  In every one it is Christmas  with an enormous tree and a thousand lights  like snow in Virginia  lightly sprinkled over moss.  I browse through them when I feel most alone;  feel raw like bone,  like Christmas and snow in Virginia  and other white things. 

Where You Were

Cold, soft, floating dream of you...  You took the sun with you.  There is stillness where you were  and quiet falling across stillness.

Rain

Rain spatters like salt,  pours from blue black night  onto the abstract dramas  of cats and children.  The vain sun is gone.  It's unforgiving orange  and gregarious red  are muffled music now.  Children demand stars.  The agressive shots of light  spatter like salt.

The Silence of You

I remember you still,  how I preferred the silence of you  to any music.  I think and wish in whispers  to not know you half so well.

Rememberance

Strange to be with you now  that love has passed.  Sidelong glances cast  mask tears.  You cried once too  as though you knew. 
Strange to be with you now.  that love has passed, still stranger.

Fragile

Sometimes we forget  to mark the box 'fragile'  or storm through warnings. 
You run your tounge across your teeth.  Your mouth full of doubt, you taste the twang  of hunched disappointment.

Sorrow

The air hangs heavy 

like a sigh.

Black sorrow moving  you surround me.  Slow steeping chill  you fall with night like memory.  The air hangs heavy like a sigh.  Rooms whisper a soft goodbye.

Room For You

Frigid, remote, unfeeling walls,  without character or definition;  so much like you.

I Will Miss You

Your skin reflects the sun.  You snore.  I laugh and drift back into unconciousness. 
Tonight I will miss you  like the sky will miss the sun.

Thinking of You

I think of you often  when there's nothing else to think of.  You  are the only person I could ever love  if you were the last person on earth

Slow Sizzle Burn

Sticky pink pucker  I'm pulled into your heat.  Your slow sizzle burn hisssssss  is like water on neon. 
Fragile light bulb shard,  naughty grin,  wax paper skin,  I have you. 

Midnight at the Underground

The sad, sad strangeness of you lingers.  I feel your little fingers.  They quieted this crevice of the sidewalk;  quieted the din of spit out songs  and the sinking clinking of our drinking. 
Here's your unfinished drink  and a cigarette you rolled  looking like nothing so much  as an angel lost in a Warhol film. 
Lucky glass;  how unfair  something unaware  kissed you goodbye. 
The sad, sad strangeness of you lingers,  returns though you do not.

Last Night in June

Burning  piercing  flash back past  torrid  tangled  fever  flailing  twisting  you.