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Poems & Drawings

Poems

Dear Angel

November 19, 2000

Dear Angel,
Are the snakes still there
Hovering in midair?
I finally remembered what they reminded me of -
A drawing I did before I learned how to love

The red dirt, the snakes, two of them
What were they hunting?
Where was their water?
I was almost the king snake for you
You have always been the queen
Possessing beauty surpassing any
That anybody has ever seen
Your white hair, your agate eyes
Cut and polished and full of light
But also blind

November 19, 2000

I was a man dying for love

October 26, 2001

I was a man dying for love
I lived on crumbs
My lips were numb
My tongue felt huge in my mouth
My hands felt gigantic
Blood poured out of the air conditioning duct
I was glued to the couch

October 26, 2001

I designed a seed

October 9, 1989

I designed a seed
And when I planted it
I dreamed it gave birth to a woman I could love
She wore mystery red
And watermelon in her hair
Watermelon-colored clothing
And her belly was a watermelon
I designed a seed
And as it grew, she fed me its red flesh

October 9, 1989

Whispering uncontrollably, sobbing

February 10, 1991

Whispering uncontrollably, sobbing
A vestige, an archangel, an episode
She stained the sheets and left
I was glad to see her go
I'll stay home and eat a popsicle
I am cold, heartless, arctic
I fish under the ice
Creatures powerful and bloody
Clean and cold in their icy rooms
Thrash and die when brought to the surface
I can't let that happen

February 10, 1991

Turned my anger into a sunset

November 18, 1989

Turned my anger into a sunset
Watched the scarlet inside my eyelids
Dogs barked and the sky got dark
The winter trees looked like skeletons
I love to watch the treetops move in the wind
She loves me and I love her, but we can't give in

Turned my anger into a glacier
Emotions come in a rainbow of flavors
Meanwhile, there's white and there's off-white,
Eggshell white and bone white
There's starlight and moonwhite
And a pale loneliness the color of beeswax
But in the hive is a swarm of bees buzzing and servicing
Their queen where she rests in her honeycomb splendor

November 18, 1989

The iridescence on the butterfly's wings

October 25, 1989

The iridescence on the butterfly's wings
Rubbed off on my finger
They were after me
I buried myself under the forest, but they found me
I put the Venetian glass under my tongue
I became one of them
Now my wings are so heavy that I have to stay in bed
The iridescence on my wings rubs off on the sheets
So they constantly have to be changed
The nurses collect the powdery iridescence
In makeup bottles
The doctors can't find blood
They call me Winter

October 25, 1989

This tragic sky

March 21, 1992

This tragic sky
The collage of my life
The wind rustles the camphor trees
Their rain-darkened trunks dark and athletic
The earth is moist and afflicted
I lie in the long, green shadows
My skin is sandstone, my eyes are clouded
I feel through a heavy fog
The sun breaks through, the shadows dance
As if I had a chance
Calming wisteria blossoming deliciously
I have no regrets
Living only for the color

March 21, 1992

I could not argue with your wish

March 16, 1990

I could not argue with your wish
Hyacinth eyes and in the mist your voice
A tenderness memory
A tenderness wish
I looked out the window at the shadow of a plant

March 16, 1990

Rain fell

July 10, 1990

Rain fell
Waterfall
The colors I ate
Then I got this way
She fed me angel food
I trekked along a path
I picked up stones and swallowed wrath
I can usually fall asleep and dream of oceans
Then from the deep I reel in half-human emotions
Creatures who writhe upon the deck
I wake to the sound of the waterfall
A pinched nerve in my neck

July 10, 1990

Rain fell

I've painted myself into oblivion

January 27, 2003

I've painted myself into oblivion
Like the roses, after they have all been cut
My eyes are shut
I can see nothing but beauty

January 27, 2003

I can't be swayed

November 19, 2000

I can't be swayed
The air is perilously still
I can feel no pain
But I know I will
I'm timing the leaves
That fall from the trees
Some fall quickly, others procrastinate
They can feel no pain
There is no such thing as fate

November 19, 2000

Drawings