To Kathleen
Know we both write
with sentences that stretch out over
the sea
like jetties and docks that make a city
a port
a scape of jagged rib bones collapsing
into the wash
building upon incomplete thoughts
like a school teachers nightmare
until magnetic fragments connect
and create a poem in motion
like a subtle body beat or the break
of a tsunami spill
Taking a homemade blade
to the paper birch bark
encasing the built up heart of what
drives words
like a dirty earth dream
sewn with mycelial stitches
that restore and give sight
to raw ridden scars
and
even now as the rush blows past
and the tides washed out
the pulse behind my eyes beats red
drumming ahead of my body
my soul charges forward and leaves
my rot iron gut unstable
useless and trying for a life
that never had me in mind
after art escapes the body
you feel instincts are nonexistent
and lefts often confused with whats
right
right under the raw hide
drizzled with gospel sung sins
sewing past into patches
and ripping filtered tips off
fingers
like invisible Chinese finger traps
change
is not a natural curve
not a burden unheard of
but not know until its felt
when will time break fever
when will life break cold
state lines forever
my body hums like a trains
coal shuffle
it's been two days since a drink of
water
been too long since food was enjoying
been far from a time we realized
we were home
so
when I try
and describe the weight
that is lifted off the mind body and
stir of the soul
is when I know
you feel the same
feel the relief
like a orgasm thats release
lasts longer than the
words took to write down
but will never know the pent up
port city grasp that was chased down
night after day
light into abyss
until they flow
these words know
that time
that time
is everything
and all the misery that
accompanies it
the building up of poems in our minds
the feeling you get when it's out
thank goodness
thank goodness
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