Still, Falling Tears

c. 2001

This book was the last full poetry book I wrote.  Very fitting, actually, because it was a culmination of the heartbreak and angst that created Via Dolorosa Press.  In the end, I couldn't bring myself to release it.  It has remained unpublished.

Some excerpts...

WinterMute

something about you,
the scream of cool metal
on roughly-shaven skin,
the clanking of powerful
thoughts in a laboratory head,
forever pumping through my veins,
our adrenaline mornings,
valium nights.

When our lips touched,
it was more than
what you thought.

(the radiators clink
the radiators steam
the radiators need
to be bled.)

That towel I cooled
your forehead with
in the fever dream
has long since been
discarded,
most certainly.

Oh!  But one of us does lie!

I miss such nights.
I miss such blatant sacrifice.
I miss how you would
Fuck Me Fuck Me Fuck Me.

I miss your sleep,
I miss your Sleep.

To See This Face

the calm memory
of a year-old grave
(something one vows
would never
happen again)
the sorrow-flower blooms
at the knoll of
your name