The Smiling Man

I avoid your eyes on purpose
yet there you sit, across the lot
burning a hole through my windshield

I expected your lips to change,
yet they remain outstretched
and every time my stare flutters back
there you are, dark eyes fixed,
mouth wide and sinister in that smile.

Fear prickles over my skin.

What’ve I done to attract your attention?
Or if it’s standard for two normally
bendable, invisible people, making

Why do I feel like prey?


Inside Looking Out

You look so beautiful,
My curious seeker
Stumbling upon my shadow
In silence.
I feel your eyes, but
Do you feel mine?

Did you know I’m curious,
Oh there’s so many things I want to ask;
Jaw remains fixed, teeth clenched
Like a cage, tongue its prisoner.
I cannot know if you would let me
Explore you.



Elusive, the restless shadow
Your chatty conscience is
A subterfuge maniac witness
Lying dormant and yet present
Alive wired vibrant
Holding on for dear life to
That feeling

The panic
Risen like a tsunami
and tumultuous
Rough skin on silhouette

Yearn and lurch forward
Sink deeper toward the center
Such guilty, desperate banter
Keeps your heart aflutter
Meaningless wonder, loveless
Twisted obsessions oblivious
To hindrance and falter

What is freedom I wonder?
Not at all how we pictured it
(When were younger) but
Stonewalled are we, put asunder



but not at first:
It was a slow burn
to an infamous epiphany,
that lit the match.

My diagnosis, the
karmic weight.

All the damage I helped create.
I am cracked and scarred
in places I can’t show,
and you can’t see,
medicated for the rest
of my days.

I am my worst enemy,
says God, whispering the truth
to my face, and I will undo myself
in time.

I am the small percentage
who believes it is not a diagnosis
but my new identity; I had so many,
and if you knew me well, you’d agree.


The Sacrifice

A frigid touch grazes the
tiny hairs on your nape
and there rose gooseflesh.

Staring calmly into the
wound, shark-eyed,

was I.

A magnetic warmth
pulsates across my palms,

my fingers|

over a sharp sheen of silver.

Your heart
your breath

I decided;
I want it back.




Pluto upends the Earth
and I am struck by His burning stare,
I fall, helplessly, to my knees;
awaiting His judgment.

His ash stained hands brand my flesh,
soothe yet scar my dress,                destroy and reform my vulnerable image, to His desire.

I yearn to adorn His laurels,                      knowing I’ve earned every single one.       And so I bite into the fruit,
Sip the nectar, binding myself forever
To His pleasure.


The Aquariids and the Capricornids

Here was neither us nor we
Only in theory;
Sporadic streaks across the sky

Perhaps it was best, in retrospect
You and I never met
A physical clash never written                          in our stars.

Perhaps it had happened before,
though you laughed when I said:
“Worlds away” but I never meant distance so much as substance,

My only hope is what I believe you deserve: your surname is well worn&
whisked lovingly as the hand on the face that’s Not and never could be mine.




Your lonesome hand reaches forth
finding smooth silver sheets
like the smoke between your teeth
and tongue

It falls flat and the fingers single out
but I am nowhere to be found

Your voyeur — night observer
I’m the oft wanderer, but not too

while you sail through
invisible dreams and surf waves
of heights unseen I discover




Curtain Call

Feathers, lace and flesh
Glossy black, silver and pale gold
A wide mirror and a handheld camera
A burst of light and a burning candle
The breeze ruffles dreamy curtains
Of a galactic window, painting stars
On your centerfold

I wanted to watch you fall in love
With a world created for you alone
I wanted to take the credit
For igniting your imagination
I built a sandcastle with words
Where each grain was significant
And you still revolt

I cannot bury you now
I ache and scream and dissipate
Into color and texture and taste
I am simply a ghost
Of the tongue and specter
Of a sound once heard



Three books completed,
In your absence
The temperature fluctuating
All the while

& I cannot help but focus
my misguided attention
on silence
and the hazy speculation
of what consumes
(from time to time)
my thoughts.

Does what’s within me cause
those who hear my faint
siren-song melody
to scream
and vanish

Can you sense the massive shadow behind me?
Or have I said too much?
Have I become too intense
when I should have kept
my mouth