you said you come from jerusalem
but i know better that to make the association
with someone else’s promised land
you think you can get away with anything
with a voice is so deeply luxurious
lilting over words and through them and into me

my eyes are wide when i kiss you because
if i close them i know it won’t be long before
i’ll be stumbling through darkness
with only you to guide me
and it’s then that
i’ll be forced
to trust you




friday at 5:00 and it’s not enough
that we want to go home, no
mother nature triples our pace
with a fresh-brewed pot of
thunder and lightning
the raindrops are as ripe
as the love i have for you
just about to burst open
into a thunderclap crash of lightning
everyone on the street runs screaming
from the warm wet bath
but i stand alone against the mayhem
and let this love cleanse me free
how free i am to wait
for this downpour
now that the winter is really over
and this season, my season
is finally here

eight sixteen, part II


for every awkward moment that
was absent from our first encounter
there were six or seven more hanging
between us as we shifted warily
on listening feet
a futon that had seemed so inviting then
seemed now ominous and avoidance-worthy
all i could offer you to drink was
beer or water and my lack of
domestication seemed suddenly
not “cool” or “edgy” but rather
uncouth and immature
as i regressed past my tough girl shell
into the queasily familiar territory
of my teenage years feeling gawky
and twitterpated as i watched
you eye my belongings which you
had played with tauntingly just
a week or so before
something in the sense of you
told me that you queased through
the same river in a parallel boat
brought back to me by the watch
you left on my end table and i
held it hostage, wondering at the
intent (or not) of the leave-behind
you smiled and stalled for more time
as i unwillingly escorted you to the door
this is how we, you and me
achieve the balance of ease

sunshower, LES-style


the edges of the chrysler building
pressed creases into a premature
thundercloud hovering over midtown
and the lower east side got its
first taste of a sunshower
the vendors on orchard flew their
plastic canvases over precious goods
and a curious bead of sweat
formed on my forehead
i left it there not wanting to
rid myself of the first taste
of summer salty and clean
moist delicious love filled in the gaps
as the tourists struggled
with unfamiliar non-numbered
streets and i watched with
passive glee as mister big scary
thudercloud brought up the wind
and let us know that more of
the same was on its way

eight sixteen, part I


i could taste the alcohol on
your fingers when i kissed
them and in that moment
everything about you and me
and the non-space between
us was fluid and free
i noticed with intense
fear how the high of chasing
and being chased sank from
the waves of adrenaline
across my chest into the deeper
more intimate and hidden
rumblings of my gut
surprised and arguing with myself
it’s silly to say that i’m taking
it slow with you considering
well… you know…
but i am
because everyday your words
reach deeper more intimate
and i am confused and desperate
to hold on to that which i’ve
just discovered not in you
but in me