Impulse and the In-Betweeners

I had this overwhelming sensation,

like that last sip of alcohol you take in

at the end of the night through which

you at once moan with pleasure but also know you’ve gone too far

and will be heaving up

grey skies

upon the morning.

This same sick sultry feeling

waltzed with

you and I   

as we walked down

dark paths

deep in some faint forgetful forest,

so familiar it was uncanny

with glow,

fucking ghostly groovy,

thus to just slide and do a two-step shuffle,

allowing myself to sink into the yummy moment,

just a breath’s width of time,

so catch it whilst

tis ever present

and hold her to your body

until she sighs with delight.

See, I didn’t consider myself,

until now,

as an impulse lover,

more just as a spirit,

sort of,

kinda,

in a body,

trying to make it by barely

for so long,

couldn’t look more

than one inhale ahead of me,

that’s the way of the wanderer

who has watched

her tribe suffer

and slowly die,

oh my,

the haunting of it.

So what was a lady dragon to do?

Must just suck down

the breaths

into her belly

til it aches so,

the task of surviving the fire breath,

the breath,

the breath.

And in the chaos moments,

one acts so fiercely on impulse

to please the ticks of the clock

as they stagger

into pleasure

somewhere in the ether spaces,

even in the midst

of the scorching days

in the springtime.

So the dragon,

when the world got too real,

would go to her brother

who told her

she was talented and amazing

and who lit the dark,

but who she then lost

to the other side

in a fit of steam and frenzy.

After he was gone,

there was then

a great thunder fog

which I cant quite remember,

but last night

I dreamt

of forests again,

and Im taking that

as a good omen.

Spice and Whiskey (for Jordan)

Spicy sauces

stirred together

in spider webbed,

candle lit kitchens,

knives and spoons

clamor to voice

their opinions

on just a dash more

garlic, or no,

and whether light

gets hungry at

3 in the morning

for tacos and ice cream

just like I do.

I smiled so big

in a way that

stretched my brain out,

wide open I saw the rain,

and felt

sweeping thankful warmth

rush through me

the way whiskey

feels going down,

down to the balls

of your feet.

Mused

When I whispered your name

a question for the nighttime,

weary and sad

in the deep dark,

it was silly I know

but I almost believed

Id hear his answer

calling out

beyond the tide,

the veil,

ground and heaven.

I sip coffee slower now,

feel empty in restaurants

and kitchen tables,

weep watching

old movies

you and I glowed at

together as kids,

growing up in Michigan marshes

with dragonflies our secret holders

and the clock ticked with

less of a harshness and demanding then.

Blank lines,

dead forests,

narrow hallways

with squeezed contorted faces,

the mystic lamp

grows so dim

amongst the collectors’ clamor,

always thumping at my head,

cold gold bricks

and curses.

But even so,

the magic that dripped

off her tongue,

oh my,

it made me quiver,

to sit on my floor

with her inked mused spirit

washing in on me

tender but strong

like a wave

reaching its fingers

to the moon.

It seemed fated almost,

like my spirit,

without really knowing it,

had been intertwining

a melody into the cloud cover

and you had noticed,

like a glimmer of something familiar,

and walked into my life

with such a light

it made me tremble

in the beauty.

Spirit Waltz

It was the way

your moaning bones

waltzed themselves into a room

that snagged me first,

a spirit not so snug

in its body

thus still had a chance

to spicy sway to the music

on the stereo.

I saw her spirit

from across the vapor room,

dancing round inside you free

and couldn’t help

but to crave a chance

to swing her around that starlit space and

love every moment.

Was that ravenous raging dragon

still there in the morning?

I opened up

the closet door

to grab my lace-up boots

after I had kissed your neck

and down your back

through the night and you’d finally drifted

to speak to the angels in your dreams,

and there he was,

lighting cigarettes

with his fury breath,

laughing so hard

he snorted loud

and filled the room

with a cloud of smoke

and heavy chortle

whilst I slipped out the back door

into the dawn.