gOOSEfLESH

[gooseflesh: moms give you life ]

in servitude of my years- whilst Love carried her winters grief
to the days of sun-laced curtains and forgotten streets bewailed
ae dream- i knew then- This will never be mine againmWhen

brittle leaves of summers slumber scurry scared past
streetlamps and holidays with ink-swept cryptic memory

my fevered hand
my fancy pen
my poets dream
arcane emotion

i touched this earth but did not feel a thing

a zombie; i sauntered; looking for a soul to keep or
was    i the lost soul escaped from a bodys prison?

i panged for your solace; a love-starved lost child;
a child of goddess; of curiosity; overwhelmed and clean
but clarity never lived in the holes of my confusion
i never really knew what understanding meant;

i was buried alive in daisy fields.
you loved me; you loved me
not; you loved me.  in vain.

every thread of my being insolently interwoven with cloth
of your spirit. then counterclockwise, just as the day we met,
i unravel from your sleeve. tawdry linen would not hide my
tear-stained self;

i took heed as the languid echo of your thousand lies
plagued my years. clemency crawled under the carpet
of my skin and i bled my prayer out loud pleading arms
outstretched

i could not reach through an addle look.

Paralyzed by your insolence my shivery hands and heart repent:
i martyred myself for you? A Memoir of Sorrows Beauty~
when love bleeds and cannot cloathe Her wounds

scarlet sheets
stains on my skin
a fly in charlottes web
suffocation in the small
of your throat.

no, i did not grow old in passivity

because, you see, as a child
i thought i could find peace in solitude
but i cant stand the noise when i stand alone
the babies you made- so fragile- hence perplexed
into cruel undefined literature

i will not remain Harlot of your Happiness
my fancy ink forgot your innocence.

Today i find a sadness in truth that i may find peace in the way i touch
the earth. holding fast to the ground i keep cutting loose urgency
of  having to conform to anothers declaration of independence;
shallow hearts cannot find devout panorama in things that a
love-starved human being can find in change…

and still

i know as little as arising from the cave
of my mothers lonely womb

this is the pome i read at TEATRO ZUCCONE;
Homegrown Festival 2009, Duluth, MN