Thought Sequence from Haiku

My girlfriend is inspiring... I want your opinion if you care to share.

she looks at me

urgently—

the sound of thunder.

if I was going to be honest,

let your hand travel

lower than my shoulderbone

& keep breathing in,

pushing out carbon,

no faces or ghosthands inside

my lungs,

pain attaches to lust,

the unwanted guest at dinner,

the old woman with too much red

lipstick, painting her eyes

in the corner.

She sometimes whispers my secrets

aloud in rooms with known faces

without a veil, only downturned eyes,

yellow teeth & whiskey,

I want to ask if this is me.

Ask whoever invented the constant

of time. Decided that we move

according to spinning hands

or the shadow of the sun.

I wonder if they know

they invented music as well.

I move according to stress

& tension, my bones decided this

before I had a reason to object,

but you touch me so gently.

I remember we survive

by reshaping,

molding differently into clay

perhaps there is a chance

for us after all.

Heated Blankets

new adventures

I haven't written in a while. I think too many things are real. They are pressed so closely to my eyelids and I can't help but stare... but I have nothing to say. The heat needs to pass. So I can touch them and talk about the way they feel. I feel sharper in the cold. Today I am all heated blankets and thoughts. Trying to pass the time. When does my life start for real... and why am I now fake? Can you meet someone and instantly know the way their heart ticks... can that be confirmed the first time you lay your head on their chest? What is to say about timing... when is the right time to push the shutter... lay claim to it with your fingers... saying more with your mouth when no words come out. I wrote the tiniest of poems. I still need to figure it out.

They told me about the aftershock once,

between kisses on my eyes.

It won’t be as hard they said

You will still have a home.

This year is still shiny,

pennies in my hand.