Older Poems I Recently Dug Up

I will not make of your body a temple to be
tiptoed over and worshipped only because it is
a temple and has heard a great many prayers
and held many Gods and Saints in its arms.

You will be a feild to be run over wildly. I will
roll in your golden grass and let my heart seep
out of my skin and into your soil and down into
the earth.

I will not whisper. I will laugh madly, throw back
my head and let my hair tangle up in the
thought of you.

When you are a river, I will not wait for the
ferry crossing. I will wade into the cool
freshness of you up to my knees and throw my
body down into you. I'll plunge with my eyes
open.

I will shake you and make all the leaves of your
mind dance.

I will not put you away on a shelf thinking that
by not opening your strong binding, I am
honoring you. No, I will devour all of your
pages. I will turn corners down and mark you up
with pen and pencil. I will spill wine and tears
into you.

When you are the last tree standing, I will not
cut you down to build a house. I will not carve
you into a boat so that I can escape from that
part of the world. I will crawl up inside of you
and let you protect me just the way you are.
And I will make sure that you get enough water.

I will let you wrinkle my soul if only you'd let me
do the same.

YOU ARE A FISH

You are a fish
Beautiful and colorful.
You are that wild, scaly thing
That I admire
And don't relate to at all.

It'd probably be easier with you
If I put you in a tank
And told myself
That you are fish
And can't be held.
It'd be easier if I just watched
You swim back and forth
Around your miniature stone castle.

Because then I wouldn't find myself disappointed with you
For things that you cannot do.

It's just that your colors catch my eye
And those wild whiskers.

Your scales are purple
And I think that probably your blood is purple too.

If my words could reach you
Through air bubbles
I'd tell you
That you need to learn to love
The fish that you are.


Thanksgiving Leftovers

You are last weeks Thanksgiving dinner
that hangs out in the fridge in miscellaneous Tupperware.
Honestly, I am rather sick of you
but I don't want you to go to waste
so I eat you anyway.
Also, I know that in a month from now I'll reallly be craving that last piece of pumpkin pie
that I let fall to the trash bin.
I'll want a cold sandwich made with left-over turkey and layered with pickles.
And so I lift you to my lips again
Open my mouth and devour you
quickly
so I don't have to taste you too much.