CPoetry

when i sleep, i see it as waking. when i wake, i see it as sleeping. the only way i see You is within irony. ::: heart-colors. a blue fire, the lonely heart. a red fire, the fallen heart. a yellow fire, the peaceful heart. i wish i could see which color appears in the veins on my wrist. even then, this love makes me colorblind. ::: if i drank coffee before dawn, maybe i could win. i would not sleep. You would not wake me. ::: i need You. You need i. this constant back and forth between us. a see-saw cannot be one without the other. one half currently sees. the other, saw, what i see now. there is an energetic child riding on the see-saw. He does not pick sides. with feet, He pushes down in a rhythm, in the center. He moves both sides simultaneously. You on-the-up.      i on-the-down. i on-the-up.      You on-the-down. this is how we help each other. ::: i see Your pink matte

two edges of a sword. two types of blood: honey and wine. in which way was i killed by the knight? by what sweetness was i slain? do help this soul who walks the graveyard of heaven on earth. i want to find my tombstone, find my body decaying in sultry, golden honey or in savory, burgundy merlot. where is my living amongst the dead? was my lover killed by the knight also? is this person sweet, too, decaying sweetly in honey or wine? legend has it the fragrance of a certain love can only appear to those whom loved themselves to death. the knight kills those souls again, for something more ; double-kills in this graveyard are rare, but they happen; knights only know how to kill someone whom has killed himself before mortal death meets him. this decay is unlike what one feels six feet beneath the soil. if people killed themselves and let the knight behead them, this place would be a garden of fruit trees and flowers;

there are books of which i have never read yet, the plot of which i understand: Boot-Camp-For-The-Soul Love-Literature-For-The-Lover. Love-Ache in Here, There, and Nowhere. Cat N' Mouse. David and Goliath. Ego Games, Tricks, and Trades. A-Tip-Of-Frank-Sinatra's-Hat. Billie Holiday for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner. Mirror-Mirror-on-the-Wall. my heart is the only blade of grass that moves in the wind of every page turned. ::: there is no such thing as the sky and the lake. there is only one ocean; a mirror of land separates them. Reflecting. birds are fish, too. they swim, too. fish and bird, i see no difference. both know of descending to ascend. whether it be through air or through freshwater. wings lifting, gills sifting. i wait in the raft to watch it occur; bird and fish talk of union. i feel my intrusion on them. bird to fish: "My talons were once sharpened to latch onto you." fish to bird: "My body was

misery, sweet misery. is it better being this state than no state at all? You, the rower of a ship. me, a paddle. stop doing this! lift me up and put me in the boat or cast me adrift. i cannot be between! misery, sweet misery. oh and about the other day: i couldn't move...oxygen...where? air, air, air. gasping. gulping. You love-coiling snake! only a strand of Your hair can do this to me. what if it was Your entire head? misery, sweet misery. ::: my hands are now Your hands. my lips are now Your lips. a taste bud, now, on the tongue of Your smile. my laugh is gone, but Yours remains. keep taking away. ::: You are here because You blew on an ember in my chest. away for a few days, why go? i always assume it is my fault. i still have much work to do with this back and forth, forth and back again. even as i write this poem, You pour wind on my ashes.      back to the bonfire.

in a dream, we were at camp. God's camp; feet of the Counselor strutting around, telling us kids to listen. You and i, we were listening. both sitting in the same innocence. legs on top of the heart. hands on top of the legs. hands clasped in our own. we were in the Counselor's circle. for a moment, Your eyes took their iris ropes and lassoed my pupils. i tried to run, but You pulled me in. golden tears and sunlight coming from your windows. and that smile. ~ Lights out kids,  says the Counselor. darkness blankets us. Giggles sprinkle the air. i am in my bed and You are bed in my am i. my words lose their placement.      i feel a woven basket on top of my stomach. ::: shoreline sleep. a wind turns me over, my hand reaches into the foam. salt dissolving my fingertips. years, You reached out. cataracts covered me in youth. tonight is different; the same wind comes and Your voice pushes me beyond the sand, the foam, wate

to lose sense of time looking into their black eyes. must they always be sore with neck pain? purple stamen. dark, royal purple. everything feels lighter in this room; the lamps fess up: We have fewer volts to carry now  because of them. seven yellow faces of God. they proclaim, We never stop faith-ing. ::: other people are simply reflections of you. make wedding vows with those you meet. no! not really! do not be literal, but say this inside: "i met you,   for better or worse. " "i met her, in sickness and in health. " "i met him, till death due us part ." in your mind, marry everyone; make a commitment with everyone--- family, friends, neighbors, strangers. bond wholly; like bubbles on top of bath water,   and divorce any part of yourself that does not serve you anymore. ::: down the river. i am one paddle. You are the other; my face is constantly submerged and choking