In Which I Fly Home

It is a strange feeling,
Standing on a plane.
Looking out a plastic portal and grasping
The notion that under my feet
And a few sections of steel

Miles of sky and cloud exist with
Unparalleled stature.
And here I am floating by people,
Cities, lakes, treetops, rooftops,

Reminiscent of the walking scene in
Every Spike Lee movie in my collection.
If you haven’t ever watched one
Then that last line makes no sense.

But it makes me laugh, that, and this
Travel without muscular locomotion.
This idea of moving myself
Without moving myself.

It makes me laugh like
All the children on this morning’s flight,
Hair alive with youth and static
From lying in their mother’s lap.

Underneath me, I am sure,
Are single-serve bowls,
Tables set for two,
Families crowded into diner booths,
And infants at swollen breasts.

I would give anything to be
Witness to each their own homecoming.
A silent partner in private
Happiness & turbulence,

Confidante and imaginary tree-house guest,
Stayer of knife blades,
And interpreter of shared lover’s looks.
However, I am moving without moving

Toward my own ten year absence
With open mind and hungry stomach.
And touching down means to be
No longer aloft with strange feelings,
But grounded in them.

A Children’s Lyric of a Different Kind

You wore no black,
No Silver buttons,
Miss Mary.
You tread lightly on the air
When speaking
&
Comfortably place your hand
Familiarly on my shoulder.
Welcomed back to a sphere
I have never really
Occupied.

Your tongue is gold
And there is no resisting
An offer to sit in front of
Black & White lens,
To “Kiss on the third.”

“Those are the rules”,
You say.

And I must…
Yield
To the sweet tooth encouraged
By the taste of
Glossed lips,
Which vault desires to under bed sheets,
Cause fantasies to chip away
Gentlemanly armor.

Each flash of light,
A breath,
Seizing thoughts of…
…
An arm around your waist…
…
Drawing you roughly close…
…
Fingers on your clavicle…
…
Gravity seducing your dress
Down to my ankles.

We are close
Until paper dries and you are gone
Or rather
I have to leave
Or rather
The open bar is closed and the party’s over
Or rather
We share much in common
Yet separate beds in life
Or rather
I’m not sure what you want,
Need from me,
If indeed
You need or want
Anything at all.

And so,
I will see you again
When you’ve finished
Gazing at fence-jumping
Elephants
Or I have the courage to call.

Know
I will be waiting
With silver to sew,
Down your sexy sway,
If it be
To your
Liking.

~Brother~ (p.1)

You say you come from
A dirt road.

I say you are
Of the Earth;
Lungs filed with fire
That could never exhale memories
Like dust.

I say
You are more than
The sum of unknown origins;
More than
Tarred dreams,
Empty bottles,
Smoke,
Mirrors,
Razor blades and tourniquets.
More than mystery
&
Ether.

You are my Dark Prince,
Who drags the Moon
Down from the Heavens
Each night
To swallow it whole.
My Dark Prince,
Crowned by the Sunrise
Ever present at his back.

And I am…
Proud of you.
Like a Father.
Love…
Protect…
And whisper prayers for you.
Like Brother,
Friend,
And Spirit.

In This Style 10/6

I am entertaining ideas
This morning.
A tea party for my thoughts,
If you will,
Only with coffee.
Being a good host
I must ensure that these ideas/thoughts
Mingle,
Make friends.
Connections.
Make certain an idea
And their Ex
Are not invited at the same time
Or not to sit down a hot thought
Next to a jealous one’s
Flirty husband.

There is danger in this gathering,
Like any party.
It may be a success.
And like any party
The opposite is also true.

This morning, however, my ideas are civil.
Thoughts, well mannered
Yet persistent
&
Coquettish.
A few run their hands
Through my hair,
Whisper in my ear,
Tug at my lip with their teeth.
I am not surprised at their
Displeasure
When I request
They come back at a later hour.
Nor am I surprised when
They linger
In the corner awhile longer,
Innocently…
Hiking…
Up…
Already short skirts,
In order to win my attention.

But you have been detained,
Have you not,
Alice.
You are late
Perhaps to fuss with your dress
Eye liner
And white locks.
You are not here,
My fantasy.
I cannot recall you
As hard as I may try.

You will come of your own
Accord,
At your leisure,
To wink me
A taste
Of what it may be like
To love you.

G, Julia, Hal, and I Walk Hand in Hand (p.2)

Moments later,
Hal seizes me by the throat
Thrusts me into the spotlight
Naked
And afraid,
Opened by her flood;
Breaths words into my loneliness,
Guides my tongue to taste
The contempt
Rotting
Behind my front teeth,
Rings the church bell
Of my faults,
Radiates heat and seismic doubt
Throughout my core.

Meanwhile
Hal and Julia,
Having found each other
In their swing set
Satin ribbon romance,
Make love
Behind my eyelids.
He hinders not her course,
She throws off his loose behavior,
And the salt they earn
Rolls
Rose
Nostril
To lip.
His hand
Breast
Her nails
Chest,
Locked from hip.

And in the instant
It takes me to envision-
I blink it…
Away…
To defend from her disarming
Empathy,
Her pumpkin hoody
And black framed
Gaze of wonderment.
Blink it to replace
Names
Faces
Bodies
To suit my needs;
My safety.

And though
G, Julia, Hal and I
Walk hand in hand,
We may never
Four
Merge,
Becoming two…
One…
None,
In the distance
It takes for bravery
To accept an open
Invitation.

G, Julia, Hal, and I Walk Hand in Hand (p.1)

“The more thou dam’st it up, the more it burns.”

She says.

I feel her spirit at bay
Ready to burst through her eyes.
She will find love
Weathered
Whether she winds her way
To his wild ocean
Or he come unexpectedly
Upon her
With little more to give
Than pride less tears
That mingle in her stream

She will find
Stillness
In the comfort of pajamas,
Carotene,
The dismantling
Of her cheekbones
Brick by painful brick,
And the resulting
Quiet
Will tear-
Bleed the eardrums
Of he who hurt her;
Cut him off at the shins,
Force him beneath
The dust of his memories,
Eviscerate his breath,
And buried there he will remain,
Restless.
Bound to a waking life
That is death without her.