Witness

The knife in your hand
as you fled from your
disaster
How fine the line
between victim
and monster

Run away
run away
I will not rejoice at your
falling
run away again
your life is your prison

In Flames

I keep pieces of you like 
memories from a fire
the toaster in the garage that
burned the house 
down
plug me in 
watch the sparks
fly

Until All Wandering Ends

The pathway home, it splinters into 
warnings:
not yet.  Not yet.
So sorry to hear you cry
so sorry for the pain between 
your eyes
but now you know 
they are cold
they are cold

Because this is my human intervention
One more winter one more storm one more
repentance

Think of me 
when you taste the mist on the grass
the bark on the trees
And tell them
tell them all
I am as full as the earth
as empty as the sun
Kiss the sea for me, lovely
I am longing
I am so afraid

Haunted

She does not yet know
how lucky she is
because she cannot
remember how
unlucky she was
he made her laugh
he was her best friend

Gone

This sea            filled with raging suspicions

polluted by the debris         of 1000 amazing inventions

not one in which I could believe

were you caught

in the firestorm of a million

conversations

or lost

in a dying admission

because just one thing I can show

and that is I am here                          

without you                         

alone

               

perhaps                 

just as it should be

but in our graveyard of

convictions

one last night

of fading ambition

your promise on the end of my fingertips

and it falls

it falls

daylight a shade too deep

I want to know

one day I must know

was it ever thus?

the clouds mirrored in our eyes

the end of apology

the apocalypse of

us

  

Tomorrow is Crying for You

Something could break

every word you 

spoke

make you sound like 

you were choking

as you danced that 

frantic ballet 

suspended midair

kicking at nothing 

when the floor had

bottomed out years 

before

I could never save you

I couldn't even love you

but how I tried

how I tried

Blinded

And if I raise my arms
and try to fly
only the sun will be
out of my reach 
when the sun is
all I desire.
For a century, at least,
I have stood here
with my arms clasped
to my side
waiting for the dew to share
its secrets with me.
For a century, at least,
I have stood here and
waited
my palms facing 
the sky
my eyes turned toward
the sun.