paper menagerie.

Red eyed morning

2011-04-17T19:52:00.000-07:00

The sun isn't even up yet
but the train is running,
shaking the walls
and the bed
and the earth beneath its
tracks.
The bells replace the birds
once the roads start to frost over
and the green glow
emanating from the trolley cars
precedes the yellow winter daylight.
Red eyes stare into the bathroom
mirror as the body leads itself out
the front door.

2011-04-08T08:52:00.000-07:00

The dreamcatcher in the window
is old and tattered.
The powder blue feathers are duller
Than when they were first attached.
It looks as if it's holding
onto a lot if dreams.
It has more likely been
forgotten by a long-gone dreamer,
whose dreams no longer need
protecting.

2011-04-07T08:46:00.000-07:00

Sometimes on cloudy days,
you can look up into the
sky, through the haze and
see the shape of the noon sun.

Don't try on blue days.
Without the clouds,
the sun is free to graze on the whole sky
and its shape is undetectable.

If you look too long,
eventually you'll be staring at stars
and they're a whole different song.

Going Home

2009-11-09T09:51:00.000-08:00

When we're grown ups,
bedtime will be togethertime.

No more long goodnights
in frozen air,
with numbing lips
and tousled hair.

Your bed and my bed
will be the same location
where our dreams will entwine
the way our legs will.

Our clothes will inevitably mix
in the generations-old dresser
whose top drawer I'll
struggle to reach.

Can you feel it?
We're grown-ups, almost.
Not quite.

Not like the song.

2009-09-07T16:33:00.000-07:00

Your heart is a room

where my toes are never cold
where the furniture is always comfortable
where the lighting is just right.

Keep me there, with a love
that lasts the seasons,
and gives me all the reasons
to stay for a long, long while.

2009-08-28T18:48:00.000-07:00

You happen upon me,
the best I've been in years.

Eyes aglow, reflecting the setting summer sun,
and with one foot out the door.

We're growing apart,
but are still eerily similar.

That connection we have will
live as we do. Until we don't.

But then -

And then?

Seasonal

2009-08-05T14:53:00.000-07:00

the sky is that
hazy shade of summer grey
that always tells you
to expect a shower later on.
It's vaguely similar
to the Boston winter mornings
whose afternoons turn
the whole world white.

Well, maybe not your world,
but certainly mine.

indecision.

2009-04-28T15:17:00.000-07:00

the souls of my feet
are the color of the dust
that coats the hot asphalt.

there's a noisy street
both in front and behind
but there's no way to know
which way is correct.

the sun is still blazing,
teasing with its tenacity.

forward looks nice. don't think twice.

newlife.

2009-03-20T11:15:00.001-07:00

I'm in your garden, with
dirt under my fingernails
and grass stained knees.

My daisies are blooming,
mingling with your marigolds
the way your soul mingles with mine.

We're at opposite ends
but distance is only temporary
in this little patch of earth.

We'll meet in the middle,
in the company of the vibrant petals,
and leave traces of ourselves

among the flowers.

Easy as One Two Three.

2009-03-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

Let's get a kite.
Diamond-shaped,
striped red green and blue,
with a long white string.

It's spring, after all.

We can fly it in the park,
near the carousel
under the budding spring trees,
you and me, little bay bee.

You'll see.
You'll feel so free.

i am no elm

2009-03-01T13:41:00.000-08:00

a house you grew up in
does not a home make.

trees have roots, not people.

origin

2009-02-15T15:05:00.000-08:00

momma, mother, madre, ama,
you are but theoretical.

no matter where I look,
in my peripheral vision,
your silhouette will linger.
I turn to see you, but
too slow are my reflexes.
you're gone just as instantly
as I felt you there.

the weight of your absence
lays across my shoulders
and before I'm conscious of it,
the curvature in my spine
is like the s you taught me to draw
in my name.

Things are so different now
than they were back then.
Darker hair and tired eyes
paint the picture of today
but your image will never change:
silent, intimidating, constant.

Abstract as you may be
I will never be free of you.
Never.

continuity.

2009-02-10T10:46:00.000-08:00

lonely
in a crowded room.

silly
little girls who

feel
solitary-ly surrounded

grow
to be 20-somethings who

feel
just the same.

1

2009-01-02T00:45:00.000-08:00

Lady, your blues song
brings me down. Why must you sing
it so near to my ear?

Abuya

2009-01-02T00:32:00.000-08:00

Your large hand,
balled up in a tight fist,
speeds toward my chest.
Blink and you'll miss it.

Straight through skin
muscle and soft tissue
to plunder my insides
and find the heart.

Tenderly retreat, prize in hand.
Only for the tenderness to disappear
and your strong fingers to crush
what you've stolen.

Still standing, I can only stare
into eyes that look like mine.
Knees buckle and meet carpet,
as daddy leaves the room, satisfied.

My poor heart.

Sunday Morning

2008-12-14T17:35:00.000-08:00

the blinds are rolled down,
and the blanket's in bunches
where our feet intertwine
at the foot of the bed.

your drum of a heartbeat
taps on my shoulder blades
while you rest, pressed behind me
in a bed that's too small.

the silence is broken only
by unsteady breathing
and the sighs of contentment
that abscond from my lips as

the soft pads of your fingers
dance along my waistline
in patterns that
I can't quite follow.

"we should get up,"
you whisper in that
throaty, half-asleep voice
that's saved just for me.

I roll over, and bury my face
in the stubble of your chin,
closing my eyes and
freezing us in the amber of the moment.

Don't ask me why,
just let me lie here
in the quiet.

2008-11-27T19:29:00.000-08:00

turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy,
all with a side of discomfort.
holidays, shmolidays.

2008-11-21T07:11:00.000-08:00

my dear sparrow,
your nest has fallen

and the horizon
won't help you now.

Specter of You

2008-10-28T02:47:00.000-07:00

a slight squint of your eyes,
and just a flick of the wrist,
and we're back to where we started.

they were right when they said
"things never change, little girl",
and I was silly to believe otherwise.

I see your face in my mirror
but something about the image
makes my stomach pirouette.

maybe it's not really you.
maybe it's just my mind's projection
of what you look like in my nightmares.

it seems too vivid to be anything but you,
but I should know better than to think
you'd be anywhere but your own world.

autumnal

2008-10-14T14:07:00.000-07:00

the winds turn cold,
the leaves put on their fancy clothes,
and the sun gets lazy.

it dips below the horizon
before the party is over,
and that cold breeze chases us inside.

numb fingertips brush rosy cheeks
and walk away.

glassy

2008-09-29T13:34:00.002-07:00

your lack of words and doleful stare
tug at my heartstrings.
you won't speak a word
but the manifestation
of your passions
in your eyes
is too much for me to handle.
maybe we've just had too much wine.

pithy

2008-09-29T13:34:00.001-07:00

shallow soul.

you've lost control.

2008-08-20T16:00:00.000-07:00

the walls are closing in
and your face goes out of focus.
you take a step forward
and glance back over your shoulder.
i wish you would let go
of my hand.

thunderheart.

2008-07-25T17:03:00.000-07:00

the bolt of lightning that cracks the sky
lights everything up for a split second.
the puddles jump with the boom of heavy thunder
as the kids count mississippis on their fingers.

this weather tells of impending summer
and that smell in the air tingles my nose.
the goose-pimples on my arms rise again
as another boom rattles my window.

I light the candles, just in case,
and look around at malicious shadows
that crawl across the floor and climb the walls
and begin to wish I didn't turn the light off.

unglorious

2008-07-01T23:27:00.001-07:00

in a small town,
a man with a plain name
walks a short tightrope
above an uncrowded
arbor-day carnival.

he catches his balance
as a little girl loses her balloons
and wonders what he's still doing
wearing threadbare costumes
and throwing dry smiles
at restless housewives.

patterns.

2008-06-29T19:05:00.000-07:00

last night,
I counted your freckles.

you slept on, unassuming
and awoke
with my fingers still tracing

patterns on
your bare arm.

color me zamalek.

2008-05-17T09:35:00.000-07:00

Look out the window at the dirty apartment building across the street. See a sea of beige curtains hanging like lonely puppets on dusty curtain rods. Down a little and to the left sits a little old woman with white hair surrounded by a warm glow behind magenta curtains. Her little old husband sits with a little old dog on a too-big chair in the window. Their air conditioner drips beads of color onto the grey sidewalk below and breathes life into the shallow puddle it creates.

If only the whole city could be decorated with magenta curtains.

traffic jamb.

2008-05-11T11:32:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the night
when you whispered words too delicate to be spoken aloud
and our voices drifted between the blaring horns
on a busy street, while our fingers intertwined
and our two shadows met on the the cracked sidewalk
and the birds yelled to us to stay inside?

You walked into the middle of the street
and closed your eyes with your arms opened wide.
I kissed the tip of your nose
and your eyes opened, slowly.
You said "Good Morning"
and the cars slowed around us.

lukewarm

2008-04-27T21:15:00.000-07:00

There is a crack in your china teacup.
It sits on the table between us
like the wall that you've built over time.
Your silence fills the room with unwanted noise
and it distracts me from the morning paper.
The lukewarm tea fills the saucer,
but you don't notice until
it fills the bottom and begins to spill over.
The puddle beneath our feet
reflects the look in your eyes
that makes mornings unpleasant.

Generation Gap

2008-04-20T14:11:00.000-07:00

A little boy in the sandbox
watches his fingers disappear
and reappear from beneath the sand.
The little pink shovel
whose color mommy can't ignore
is gripped tightly
in his other fist.

Pigtailed and dressed
in an outfit to match her shovel,
daddy's little princess
buries her foot in the sand.
Her lips are always moving,
but he can never make out
what she's constantly mumbling.

Mommy's eyes meet daddy's
in a silent moment of affixation.
She knows what he's thinking,
he knows what she's thinking.
But neither child will understand
the silent dolor of parents
until they're much older.

All for the best, right, mommy?
Right, daddy?

sermon.

2008-04-12T12:47:00.000-07:00

the four'o'clock sunlight that falls across the living room
throws your shadow, making you look like
the giant that you are on the inside.

your shoelaces are untied
but the limp-wristed way in which you
animate your words tells me that you're unphased.

you unconsciously pace the floor
back and forth back and forth
as the music in the next room builds.

you stop with your arms in the air, head hanging low,
as the climax strikes and begins to descend,
and you're finally ready to sit down.

eyes rimmed with tears, and cheeks as rosy
as your ruby-red sweater.
you collapse into yourself
and fade into the couch.

[ ]

2008-04-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

eyeliner clumped beneath your eyes,
you stare at nothing.
I wait for you to speak.
I always wait,

but [nothing] comes.

bury my heart

2008-04-11T16:40:00.000-07:00

where the sun shines long,
and the grass grows green;

where the autumn bird's song
is soft and serene;

where the flowers bloom,
and the children will play;

where the rainclouds loom,
and I'll always stay.

bury my heart there,
and content I will be.

bury my heart there,
and forever remember me.

2008-04-08T19:10:00.000-07:00

the wooden bench that cradles my frame
allows the unadulterated spring winds
to run chills through my clothes.
the newspaper in your hands crinkles and folds
in accordance with the heartbeat
of the elderly woman beside you.

my tea gets cold faster than I can drink it
and my fingertips feel the bite of the wind
where the cup once protected them.
I like it out here.

the light in your eyes flares and I can't look away
but you look down and say it's time to go.
the sun takes its final bow
and the clouds linger too long
when the curtain of sunset
finally falls on the horizon.

slanted sky

2008-03-28T08:12:00.000-07:00

cool summer grass between my toes,
we stare at the glinting stars in a sea of sky.
I lean my head back until I lose my balance
and collapse among the dandelions.
they look unfamiliar at night
but inviting, still.

your heart is slanted and your eyes are tired
but the fire behind them doesn't die
until morning
when the sun comes up
and the starlight fades
and it's time to go back home.

things look different standing up
than they do lying down.

2008-03-26T09:19:00.000-07:00

I just thought you should know
that I won't be coming home
tomorrow.
The smell of that place
is not the smell of home,
but of a cheap motel.
You are the lonely hotelier,
as I wander and gaze
at a place I should recognize,
but don't.
Maybe next time
the peeled wallpaper
and chipping tile
will be like the
walls I remember
wanting to climb.

I somehow doubt it.

the view of the Charles from the red line is

2008-03-25T16:17:00.000-07:00

like a cool vein through piles of steel.
partially frozen
covered in snow
leaves swimming in puddles atop the ice.

we whiz by too quickly to see
what lies below the surface
but the old ladies on the other side of the car
know what may be there.

years of riding this same track
to those same desolate places
brings a wisdom that others
will never know.

but still,
we watch out the window,
and catch our reflections in the glass
that distracts us from seeing
what is really below the surface.

2008-03-20T20:42:00.000-07:00

On the first day of spring
in a city on a hill
it's cold.
And it's raining.
It looks
just like the drearier days
of the past winter months.

The early crocuses shrivel away
from the overcast sky
and retreat into the warm earth,
only to be seen again once the sun returns.

Maybe tomorrow will be warm
and my heart will sing
with the birds
that only come out
in the spring.

Lately,

2008-03-14T16:13:00.000-07:00

seeing my father smile is a rarity.
His bones creak,
his face is wrinkled,
and his fingers are shriveled
from working in cold rain.

But when he does smile
it's like his mouth is full of fireflies.
My heart does

a hop
a skip
and a jump

and my world,
in that moment,
seems brighter

when my daddy smiles.

a purple heart for red eyes

2008-03-14T10:44:00.000-07:00

we lay together,
the drone of planes overhead
but you never sleep.

2008-03-12T20:34:00.000-07:00

a little blonde head
attached to a little girl body
peeks around
an opened door
down the hall.
she observes the ruckus
and keeps a close watch,
but all the little blonde head
attached to a little girl body
resolves to do
is turn around
stick a tiny little thumb
into a tiny little mouth
and turn back in a tiny little circle
to the big, warm crib
in the third bedroom on the left.

who knows what she'll dream of tonight.

2008-03-10T14:30:00.000-07:00

The dulcet tones of the warbling violin in the next room
are an agreeable accompaniment to the breakfast
shared by the lovers downstairs.
My fingers move of their own accord
to match the song that soothes my hectic mind
and I suddenly wish that the same sweet tune
would come out of my own violin.
If only I'd practiced more as a child.

Nana

2008-03-09T17:14:00.001-07:00

This quiet discount hotel room, with its gauzy beige curtains and mismatched furniture does little to warm the heart. The red-haired matriarch sits quietly on a creaky sofa and we all watch a streaming blur of paltry images, trying to remember the feeling of summer grass on the soles of bare feet. The blistering winter wind outside calls out to us a reminder that we still have socks and shoes on.

I'm cold. It's time for bed.

a melancholy ode to twilight

2008-03-05T01:16:00.000-08:00

A blank stare hangs heavily in the air of
a dark room bathed by the light of the moon
but nothing is what it seems.

The red wine that's neither yours nor mine
makes the murmur of the heart sound more like an art
but nothing is what it seems.

Smoke from a midnight cigar mingles with the stars
and tickles my nose as you repose
but nothing is as it seems.

The sun comes up, and the starlight fades
and the room is disguised by the light of day
and everything is as it seems.

airport shoeshine.

2008-02-28T17:47:00.000-08:00

Bent like an upside-down J,
glasses slip down
off the shiny forehead
of the little old man who
shines shoes at the airport.

Rub rub shine
rub shine shine
shine shine rub
rub rub rub.
All day long
rub rub rub.

The broad-shouldered suit
sits high in his chair
looking down upon the
hunching figure before him
and grumbles about the noise
from the rub rub rubbing
of the shoe shine rag.

The suave business man
and his business man shoes,
now as glassy as the old man's head,
mutters a thanks and blends into
the late-afternoon procession.

The crowd slows,
and the little old man
gathers his kit
and totters out to the bus stop
where his little old lady wife
waits with a smile.
It's the brightest thing
shoeshine man has seen all day.

Where does he go
when the day is done?
He goes home
to scrub scrub scrub
at the tarnished tips
of his old man fingers.

machinery

2008-02-24T15:24:00.000-08:00

the machinery looms in the distance.
its long arms and bright red glow
are reminiscent of childhood closet monsters.

I lay flat on the earth and gaze toward the sky.
the glare of the crimson sunset is soothing.

ticks tock in that very same spot
and the monster fades into no more.

2008-02-23T20:55:00.000-08:00

There's a crack in the earth.
It starts between my feet
and runs ahead of me
as far as I can see.

It matches the crack in my heart.
I feel it forming, slowly. Methodically.
It cracks, splinters and spreads,
until my poor heart is torn in two.

Like a sad china doll
I cannot fix it.

2008-02-21T20:58:00.000-08:00

everything is dark
but the dull shine in your
eyes. I see my face in them
looking back with the same
longing that I see in yours.

you are me.
i am you.

the clouds that cover the sky
darken the dark of midnight
until all that is left
is the star that is you
and the star that is me.

a corner.

2008-02-19T14:31:00.001-08:00

I see it.
It's in front -
no, behind -
in front
behind
back
forth -

I'm Stuck.

Fuck.

2008-02-18T13:15:00.001-08:00

cold toes
itchy nose
warm sweater
never better.
the music's too loud
and it drowns out the crowd
underneath my window in the sky.

2008-02-17T08:44:00.000-08:00

The flimsy paper crane
mocks my fragility
from the far corner of my desk.

In which solitude is a virtue.

2008-02-16T20:35:00.000-08:00

It's snowing again.
A cool February chill runs up my spine
and sneaks back down to tease my toes.
I shiver throughout.
The flakes flutter
among forgotten Christmas lights
climbing through naked trees.
They shiver too.

The lights from windows above
flicker and fade
as faraway voices traverse icy winds.

The heart flies a little on these nights.