Poetry

Our ties

between us...
i like what we have
our connection
it's so delicate and reassuring
so painfully 
...lovely
it could snap like that
you don't see how i carefully watch it every day
tenderly trailing my hands over its overt dark matter
and the stars that shine through and grow in numbers
each
and
every
day
all because you care
and yet i want you to notice
how much
joy
it brings me


Japanese Translation:

あなたとわたし
その間にあるもの
それが愛おしい
わたしたちの繋がり
繊細で安らか
胸が痛むほど愛おしい
それはパチンッ、と弾む
あなたは知らないんだ
わたしが毎日毎晩
心を向けていることを
あなたがこの手に優しく触れさせるのは
真っ黒なあれと幾千にきらめく星
昨日も
今日も
明日も
あなたにとってはどうでもいいかもね
それでも、気づいて欲しい
それが
どれほどの喜びを
わたしにもたらすかを




Between Worlds

Caught between worlds, willing the time forward
Still the sound, the feeling, for now, until my tethers unbind at last
Bringing forth a flame in my chest, outwardly reaching into the night sky
The life in me, looking down, deep into the reflection of beyond
And never looking above 
My body, suspended somewhere in darkness, where the lines of the dimensions meet--
I'm content to stay here, but sometimes it bites
Where the lines once crossed in my chest now leave a black hole
May it consume me or may I own it




A Word

there are cracks in this word's skin
that run along, leaving space
static
left for afterthought 
as long as it exists
word's identity is what it isn't 
or isn't what it is
and so what is
the most precise layer within
fractals and fractals 
to define
the word?
is it physical, like indigestion,
or as lofty as
the meaning of life?
is word its thoughts
or the body that ever shifts?
the shifting of its perceptions
and the perceptions of it
it fools itself
as more words flow through
the cracks--
will never find the perfect sea




Untethered

Walk with me
to the boat int the middle of nowhere
there is no gravity in us—
We can lay together face to face
And memorize the silence
because thoughts are voids

Sail with me
far away from the danger of stars,
we can gaze at their reflections in the sea
In our transparent bodies that
Fade into the water glowing gold—
Where we are will never matter




Greedy for Universes

I take frequency strands and
Lasso them to the cores of people
whose frequencies mysteriously attract mine
And grow these frequencies until they become
the dense universes that bind us
--the stars, the galaxies, the nuances, the dark matter
Is it greed, I wonder?
What remains is the underlying longing
to do this with so many,
To grow this garden of frequencies
For the rest of my life
with as many possible
Yet it can never be enough




Reaching

A child once reached up and
Grabbed a star
Attached it to a string
kicked up the sand and
slid through it a mile
Swung the star in circles
Before losing hold—
back to the black canvas dream
it soared.
The child now grown
Took everything outside
Threw it all toward the wind-torn sea
All that was
Supposed to be
And then looked up to the canvas
again, reaching.




Wordless

what happens when
we run out of
questions?
when words are rendered
oblivious
pulled under miles of
layers of
unexplained?
gazing, probing
through stars gleaming in
our eyes
far away
in the cold
you took my hand
barely grazed a sentence
and
was that the end?
combinations of letters only
the length of our arms
as you reached
out to me
and i to you
a sudden draft of wind
that we’ve been afraid of
pulling
us
away from each other
since the first time we learned
words are so limited.
don’t say
anything.
no more
reaching.
you place your lips
to my eyelid
gently
and seal the 26 Roman letters
the thousand characters
the lines, curves, dots
the insufficient variations—
and when you leave me behind
any form of good bye
is not enough




Let me be a stone

thank you for letting me
Curl up in your warm ribcage
like a hearth in a bitter winter--
because I have really been estranged
And continue to wonder the last time
i had a soaring feeling.

do you really think I can find me?
Among the distractions
of other souls? i’ve made me
an inert stone
At least you know I will stay
for you a while longer
although i can never be sure
i will stay for me
Because even stones can have a sort of spirit
that can emerge and--
right now it’s bouncing around
in the bone cage I’ve rented from you

you can let me go any time, you know
so i can buy my own bone cage, 
since i’ve attached to your insides and
I fear the burden’s getting 
too heavy for you--
I am like an iron ball deeply
Embedded in the soil that is your blood

Maybe one day i will
break enough to turn into dust
so i can fly around again with you as an equal
And all my good thoughts will be
every particle
and maybe someday i will collect enough




Painting walls

Here is this adulthood you
mentioned--
the subject we extolled  
at the dinner table, 
When I was ages one, two-- 
All the way to now

I don't know but
i hope they like it, this "new great" me
although even if they don't, i shouldn't 
care too much--

sometimes i expect to see the faces
of old acquaintances posted
all over the billboards and articles
or on the TV screens,
All over my skin just to remind me of
How much I have yet to do
and can't reach, and will
these words find them?

i've placed myself on a
butter knife and spread myself thin
Over as many walls as i could
Because I wasn't sure--

I've written out notes on a page
In almost every form i know,
prodded at words like hardened sap
in my rib cage
or danced literally 
over disregarded duties,
or acted as some other character just to have
A convenient mask to cover
the myriad of insecurities
in my mind.

They're going to move on
as I am, and maybe i'll be
the winner of the next national prize, 
maybe sweeping the urban sidewalks,
or somewhere in between extremes, still
watching the frozen-in-time eyes of old acquaintances
Plastered to the walls--

These walls I had built
around myself
while I mistakenly refused to grow




I comprehend the room

I walked into a room once
just as the room walked into me
casually 
striding
little strands of waves
proceeding through my ears and eyes
translating into the neurotransmitters
that process too quick
for me to resist their demonic scorn
i weaken 
at the knees
as i see you there at your most primal
your phone to year ear
and your hand 
toying 
with 
the poem i wrote you
and slowly it crumples in your palm
you say to some invisible being,
"it was good, but I'm beyond that now."