Welcome

you don't spend much time
peeking behind curtains,
rummaging through boxes,
pieces of my mind
tucked inside.
those remain untouched--
no breaks in the dust
from curious fingertips.
your fingertips
prefer to roam
through skin and hair,
pausing now and again
on gasping lip
pounding vein.

but I feel your presence
sitting cross-legged
at the hem of the curtain.
the untouched boxes don't feel alone
when your fingertips finish
with my skin hair lips veins
and fall asleep on my pillow.

companion--
I make room for you
in bed in mind.
your fingertips are welcome
to wander at will.

Keep It Casual

you ruin my soul.

wait, that's not what I meant.

you undress me (why?)
and I pretend it's not secrets I spill
into your loquacious hands.
you mark me (as whose?)
and I make believe the bruises
can be brushed away
like blood in sand.
you rip your body from mine
in the morning (where to?)
and don't seem to notice
how much of my skin
you take with you.

every time you leave
I feel the dents from your teeth
on my lips
and wish
I was being consumed
by love.

but here we go again
undressing
marking
ripping
unable to say no
unable to numb all longings.

This -- this is what ruins my soul.

Inspired by Matt Ulery's "Queen"

queen of ragged riches run
with haloed wrists
and lips -- grammar of rose
walk and sidewalks
tumble into servitude
weeds in sentiment adoring
bow as hips enchant the air

queen of jagged winking joy
eyes lined with flirting shade
pierce and pleasure
awaiting lesser glances met
tilt and sway
kiss and slay
queen -- you're home

Skin In This Game

where is your skin in this game?
the lines of battle are drawn
archers, poised, bows taut
ready to pierce
will you bleed when they release
their fury?
or will every arrow
miss you?
miraculous!
as if their flinted vectors
had no mind to harm
you
in the first place

where is your skin in this game?
where are your scabs and bruises?
where are your teardrops in the dirt
from where they knocked you down?
where are your footsteps in that blood earth
proving to the whole world
that you got up again and
marched
on?

what do you stand to lose?
what have you brought into our temple
ready to lay at the altar
willing to see burnt?

if they threatened your home
                             your lover
                             your money
                             your babies
                             your intellect
                             your freedom
would you run?

are your hands chained to ours
when they throw us
into the cargo hold of oppression?
do you go with us to hell
when we are damned to meet
the blue-eyed devil?
when they force themselves upon us,
do you know how to stitch us up
with the same tenderness and rage
as if it were your own body
they tore open?
how real do you wanna get, friend?

I know what you believe
I know what you envision
I see you embrace it all in rebel's love

But tell me -- where's your skin in this game?

white house

white house, farm and grave
you smell of ghosts, withering
footsteps of mind lost.

You Believe In Beauty

standing in your apartment
chaos shredded, fractal on the floor
you can hear the mold
whispering from behind the bookshelf
laden with Kerouac
                  whiskey
                  and Parliaments
a scent
pungent, signature
bearing witness to emphysema nights alone
and a few too many
in the company of
strange thighs, spread eagle, unwashed sheets.

but when you put your hands
on my body
eyes locked with mine
mouth nestling into the
most intimate divet in my neck
I know--
you believe in beauty.

you believe with kicking, screaming resilience
it is the greater whole you sum to be true
and you fight
your way back to it
with equal parts rage
and tenderness.

you believe in beauty
you know beauty
and no matter how hard
you try
you can't hide that
from me
anymore.

The Running Lovers (627 Words of Resistance)

My lover and I,

We came to the church.

“We seek the peace of God which passes all understanding;

Will you give us sanctuary?”

But they did not listen.

They named us by the Evil Names,

Names of Devils,

Prayed away

By starving our souls.

They whipped us,

Raped us,

To “correct”

The portrait of God

They could not accept.

So we ran.

My lover and I,

We came to the synagogue.

“We wish to keep the Commandments and revel in wisdom;

Will you bless us and keep us?”

But they did not listen.

Shunned,

Stabbed in the street,

Barred from the holiest of holies.

Spurned from the only home

The Wandering People can know.

Chosen--

Only--

To be outcasts.

So we ran.

My lover and I,

We came to the mosque.

“Wherever you turn, there is the face of God;

Will you see our devotion and remember The Merciful, The Compassionate?

But they did not listen.

They accused us of

Abomination,

Of filth;

Unclean

To partake of God’s abundance.

Condemned

To repent—

Or face

He who throws the first stone.

So we ran.

My lover and I--

We came behind the Iron Curtain.

“Free us from the opioid of the masses; let us stand with you as equals.”

But they did not listen.

They sent us to the furthest reaches

Of a frozen hell,

The cold ground opened only for the dead.

Put to work until we could be cured--

No longer a menace

To the revolutionaries making the world anew

Into a world where we did not exist.

Erased, shaven down with

Cruelty

Until we were ghosts,

To be shot in the head

And forgotten.

So we ran.

My lover and I--

We went to the secular democracy.

“All men are created equal;

Will you let our truths be held self-evident?”

But they did not listen.

They locked us up in bright white asylums,

And sent teams of scientists to peer at us

Through tiny windows.

They ran tests on us.

In the name of science,

They pronounced: PERVERSION!

They outlawed us.

They chemically castrated us;

To cure us,

To neutralize our threat to progress.

But when a virus ravaged our bodies--

Ah!

No treatment to be found.

So we ran.

But where were we to go?

Every corner of the planet was filled with hateful tongues,

Given permission to terrorize

By the silent majority.

Every single one of them had betrayed us.

There was nowhere left to run.

And so we stood and fought.

My lover and I--

We went back to the secular democracy.

We went back to the communist headquarters.

We went back to the mosque,

The synagogue,

The church.

With our banners and our marches,

Our sit-ins, our pray-ins, our vote-ins;

With our blood, our tears, and our lives:

We faced down the police.

The scientists.

The politicians.

The holiest of hatreds.

And flung wide the closet doors!

And now we are married;

Removed from the physician’s manual of mental illnesses,

Registered for joint tax returns.

Now we are given a seat at the table

Beside our comrades,

Our skills invaluable to the survival of our country.

Now we pray side by side,
Foreheads kissing the ground,

A wall against injustice.

Now we march

With pride

In the heart of the Holy Land.

Now each week Father Charlie,

In his rainbow bowtie,

Welcomes us to Communion.

We are everywhere.

Not gone,

Not erased,

But fighting—

For everything beautiful and true,

For every idea worth considering,

Every pathway to peace,

Every place to call home.

Keep up the fight, my brothers and sisters.

Whatever fight you choose to call yours.

You and your lover don’t need to run anymore.

You are not alone.

You will not be erased.

We will stand together.