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Feelings are boring.	Kissing is Awesome.

Puddle_Jumping
read my profile sign my guestbook Name: David Country: United States State: Minnesota Metro: Minneapolis Birthday: 3/16/1986 Gender: Male Interests: People: flawed/flawless Writing: deep/creative Reading: see above Message: message meEmail: email me Website: visit my website AIM: DippySqual04 Member Since: 2/22/2004

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Monday, January 11, 2010

Darling, I found your footprints by the gray light of morning. By the tide lines up and down the beach, bare feet marking deep wet steps beside the shore.

I match my toes inside your own, gentle to be sure I make no sound, leave no mark behind me to betray to you who is leading and who follows. Careful so that neither one of us will lose our focus. So that neither one of us will choose the path we walked before.

We can’t help that we are all of us made of salt.

God help us each to make the choice, between the pillar or the ocean. Leave the sand between your toes. Know the truth of my devotion.

10:34 PM - 2 views - add eprops - add comments - email it

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Work in Progress.

my heart,
I have to admit
this all started
with desire and a curve in
your smile matching the
soft roundness of thighs
parted. You moan
and it's just the thing
I wanted, and the taste
of you is on my tongue

It's bitter, but they say
that this and life are
bittersweet and salty
like the ocean
blind and coughing up
our atoms and our eve.

They call this
poetry confessional
- as if there are other kinds
as if there is any poetry
that's not a blind
groping inside of myself
and ripping this out of

8:54 PM - 1 view - add eprops - add comments - email it

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

How can I sleep without you?
I have blankets, but there is
no warmth - without the nearness
of your skin.

How can I dance without you?
I have music, but there is
no rhythm - without the beating
of your heart.

How can I laugh without you?
I can joke, but there is
no joy - without the sparkle
of your smile.

How can I be without you?
I have breath, but there is
no passion - without the fire
in your eyes.

Let us go then, you and I
across this white hot scorching beach.

We can listen to the seagulls
crying out from each to each.

Hold my hand and plug your nose,
dive with me and we'll sink down.

Let the bubbles rush between our toes;

till human voices wake us,
and we drown.

(with of course a debt to T.S. Eliot)

10:43 PM - 7 views - 2 eprops - 1 comment - email it

Saturday, April 11, 2009

We've hit this point in our friendship running. You know, the one where we show each other our histories, and the scars that mark our parts. Except mine are from scalpels, pavement and fences and gravel. You stick to straight razors and music in darkness and ritual; you've made a ritual out of hurting yourself the way your father's made a ritual out of hurting you; rending and gnashing his teeth, religiously. Except his excuse is alcohol, and yours is maybe him. It's hard to say, so instead we don't.

I just pretend you have an over-excitable cat, perhaps; who scratches out that braille of white scars. Pretend you don't spend too many hours behind closed doors fighting your secret. This self-sacrifice is for him, but for nothing- So take back your offering just for the sake of spilling blood. That same blood pumps in both of you, but blood is still blood; and yours is still yours; and this is a merciless kind- of
transubstantiation.

1:05 AM - 2 views - add eprops - add comments - email it

Sunday, March 08, 2009

	It's the first day of a long March and no kind of time for a funeral even if the earth is warm enough now for yielding to the frantic pull of feet and hands. This hole was made for you, but yours - is a long and lonesome journey down through the wet soil and the waking worms.
	4:09 PM - 1 view - add eprops - add comments - email it

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