hung

twitching
hands
shaking
head
looking up
to hear the
creak in my
neck
belly
bloat
breasts
soar
pulse
beat
ache
one
and
two
and
three
and
four
ive
never
quite
felt
this
be
fore

the back of the mountain

the back of the mountain is warm
the back of the mountain is smooth

kissing it, i feel that on my lips
both the warm and the smooth

it is also soft, and in fact, it is your back too.
just like the back of that big mountain,

warm and smooth.

the water from the lakes and the rivers make steam
when you touch your back to them they become the air in ripples of gray
when i touch your back i become ripples of red - like lava
hot down your back and front

the mountain is what i want to run myself down
warm and smooth
ripples of gray steam
the lava glowing - slow, moving down
meeting the rivers and lakes
to sleep stiff, smiling
having moved
formed by a back
the smooth mountain back
it sends me swimming

a white mold

is covering

growing silent deep cough
over sleeping head collar bone
white

mold, my lungs fur blowing

when the bed has two heads mine touches
the silhouette, the family tree, the history - veins

but you question any root
a blackened deadened thread
woven cover for doubled glance

but the mold it still grows
over you and over me
our heads two headed bed
and it fills the lungs like smoke
a white
not black cover to this breathe
these words

dull edge, soft glance
only with the inside-out
give in give in
not for fear but the loss of it

the mold is alive
and its not afraid

keep ingesting

my tongue never knows
but wonders
what and why it keeps flowing in
the words and the food
mashed together
in a paste
my stomach awakened
but bored by the same
mess
in belly
lower hollow filling
the memories catch there
and that is what is being buried
deep below the paste
all that wants to be forgotten
teeth ground
tongue diluted
but still whole
are the pieces in the mush
hollow fills,
yet rooted is you

the night has a walk

the night has a walk and its fog
it has a walk and its quiet traffic humming
a walk and the dialogue became just one
two eyes two feet and just one

we parted at the bridge and i climbed

darting to the silent streets
before my orange envelope would take me
deliver me to sleep
the night had a walk for me

just a monologue
just a story told from one

i, to listen
the night, to tell

lights catch the fog and the words float on
the bugless winter air carrying them nicely
flowers caught from summer still in bloom
drooping as the words pass by their sleeping bodies

the night had a walk
with cheeks pink, listening
to night
to breath
to body

the night had a walk
breathing words,
with a slow winter pace

Janus

of beginnings - hands held

of endings - hearts cradled

of times breaking - pieces kept

of this change and its weight - lifted

you are not a man to me, Janus

but the woman with whom i sing each song

necks together voices singing double headed harmony

of the aching of the heart
the strength that is in it
of my womanly ways
we sing each song together, Janus,
because I am the creator
of my starts,
stop


opening the door
unlock
key falling never needed
my prayerless closings
keep coming
shining beneath the crack
light streaming
leading me


Janus, lets sing,
a song about it all
about the summer
about the pounding
what it means
to love to change
to say goodbye
when hearts close
doors how to open
letting light in
yet too
letting light out

your soft voice

i listen on and on

a warm river, you
with the eyes i stare into

nerves a spring
edging each with fingers

i wonder who you are
with that voice like a river

and yet we are silent

only your
voice
to my ear

this quiet snow fall

on and on

the dirt of the heart

for each time i raise my eyes
to find you
ill write
for each time i wake to want you here
ill push away from lonely
and find a point in me
which holds me better love with hope
of futures growing true
its crushing me now, but ive got to resist
being knocked down and never return
im aching and trying a knot to untie
its just at those pauses
i feel like i might not survive
and however much i get up and see
i cant forget about what my words
are saying
as useful as tools to use in the soil
ill prepare the bed and hope my ground is healing
for fertile grounds to grow a new kind of motions