Saturday, November 25, 2006


I am not of your truth,
(you may not understand this).

the stones
have begun their grinding
beneath my skin.

you may imagine you recognize
the sound they make,
their raw grating, or
the answering resonance
within my bones.

do you realize
their deliberate refining
will not abandon me,
making absolute my flesh,
ethereal my muscle?

I wait.

the rasping timbre
reshapes my marrow.

none of this is certain;
all is belief.

my mouth is full
with honey bees,
my lips their petals,
their hum my song,
- pure fidelity -
or is it innocence?
five thousand drops of faith

from my bones
upon your flesh.

do barbs taste tears?

needles jab skin.
six for my neck
ten for my hands;
I wait.

my cry tastes
amniotic - salty
electrodes, waves,
none find it.

press the needles
to my soul,
then the keening
could begin.

pierce the twisted babe
sucking salty waters,
I nourish
with tears.
hear its bellow?
its wail of agony?
send the needle through me,
till the poison spouts from
frozen flesh; and let
my soul scream begin.

release me.

I am raw
and unafraid.

Sunday, November 19, 2006

Ode to a Man on a Harley

Guitar Player
Originally uploaded by Callooh.
Shall we dance?
just you and I?
take a ride to our horizon’s end…

shall I wrap my thighs
round yours?
your leather hips -
lean into you
as black ribboned road’s vibrations
consume us -
combine me with
your heat.

can I close my eyes -
and feel your lashing hair
my cheeks,
my eyes
into my mouth?
will it taste
of you?
of road-and-wind-and-sweat.

myself, machine and man -
wide open to the sky
as we blister sunny fields of flowers
their faces turned in awe.

chrome keeps flashing
sunlight briefly
while rubber treaded miles are
into asphalt,
with our blended beads
of sweat
as we race


Originally uploaded by Callooh.
This is a place of faded flowers
gently worn onto age softened sheets
that caress the cots in corners
where an ancient dresser rests quietly
against a slanted wall
where the water whispers
and dappled maple light
dances on your face
before you wake
from sleep
deeper than the lake
full of more dreams
than the playful window leaves
you have long wished for
where the water
knows you
before you open your eyes
and remembers

Saturday, November 18, 2006

coddled cream

Originally uploaded by Callooh.
cultivated by
the coddled cream
of bitterness
clutched, and nurtured
in dire devotion
on ample breasts
while sung
grasping lullabies

these he now
perfectly imparts
to me - as my
never ending,
never ever ending
love's bondage.

Thursday, November 09, 2006


I want to write about sadness

about falling
inside – never sensing

about cold numbness
and beckoning

sleep that
tugs gently
on my hair
pulls it down

but I am drowning

crying out
with silence
into empty air.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006


Originally uploaded by Callooh.

I cry for what I cannot save

for the dying roadside bird
bloodied under blackened wheels

for the frightened child
held down
learning how a secret's kept

I cry for
young veins punctured
with poisoned needles

I cry for pain
I feel screaming inside you
that fills all of me
that I cannot take away

for the sickness
that I comfort
but cannot heal

I cry for all that’s broken
that I cannot fix

and some days

I cry

for me.

I Have Gone Marking

black water
Originally uploaded by Callooh.

By Pablo Neruda

I have gone marking the atlas of your body
with crosses of fire.
My mouth went across: a spider, trying to hide.
In you, behind you, timid, driven by thirst.

Stories to tell you on the shore of evening,
sad and gentle doll, so that you should not be sad.
A swan, a tree, something far away and happy.
The season of grapes, the ripe and fruitful season.

I who lived in a harbor from which I loved you.
The solitude crossed with dream and with silence.
Penned up between the sea and sadness.
Soundless, delirious, between two motionless gondoliers.

Between the lips and the voice something goes dying.
Something with the wings of a bird, something of anguish and oblivion.
The way nets cannot hold water.
My toy doll, only a few drops are left trembling.
Even so, something sings in these fugitive words.
Something sings, something climbs to my ravenous mouth.
Oh to be able to celebrate you with all the words of joy.

Sing, burn, flee, like a belfry at the hands of a madman.
My sad tenderness, what comes over you all at once?
When I have reached the most awesome and the coldest summit
my heart closes like a nocturnal flower.