memorial

I.

today i
built
a house
out
of twisted
words,
concrete, and
steel
it has
no
walls but
its
foundation is
firm

II.

from the
point
of the
roof
hangs,
by a
piece of
wire,
a stone
that
burns red
(my
heart)

III.

beneath the
red
stone lies
other
stones that
are
grey, my
father,
my grandpa,
many
others whose
names
i am
not
familiar with

IV.

i know
someday
the
wire shall
break
my only
hope
is that
i
do not
crush
the rocks
below

Dinner For Two

The candlelight
flickered
in your eyes
as your foot
brushed mine
under the table

Telling

The only readable words
on any of the faded pages
of that journal
were "I miss you."

Golden Gaze

God's gaze gives the Golden Gate its grace.

Summer

The corded edge
of the red
cafe awning
brushes against the window
as it sways
in the warm breeze

untitled

the cityscape in the evening:
lights against water

beauty:
a speck of blue in your eye

untitled

when i sleep
you are awake

when you sleep
i am a awake

i dream
your day

your day
will be
filled with
beauty

you dream
my day

so even as
a stranger
here
no harm
will come
to me

Sadist

i prefer the
rip
of the
page
to the
sound
of the
pen

chill

jumping in was
fine
the surface was
warm
but the depths were
cold

thank you

thanks to the garbage man
with the coke bottle glasses
who is addicted to pain-killers
and wore purple scrubs instead of a tie
thanks to the drunk
who forgot my name
whose breath smelled of jack
whose eyes were filled with tears
thanks to the homeless man
who stopped pushing his cart
long enough to cover his bare chest
with his hat as the hearse passed by

untitled

when the graves are
full
lets dig up the
bones
and bleach the skulls
white
painting as we
go

graduation

everyday in
june
is graduation
day
because of the
way
the car's headlights
shine
against the
melancholy skies
and the
chocolate
clouds

faith

is an
airbus,
a pond
called the
pacific,
and still
knowing
the hot
and
itchy
taste
of your
hair