Morning Star

and it wasn't me
i couldn't see it - the sparks and the explosions.
but it wasn't me,
and i couldn't sleep here.

i don't know what else to say,
what else?
it's about me and my blood,
[i cut and i wonder]
the color of my thoughts.
about me and my feed, thought and my paper.
i feel it in my head,
a slow-lichen creeping,
i see it in my mind,
the seethe of my morning.
and it wasn't me,
i thought it was outside,
but it was inside me,
the cells of my skin.

i've come back full-circle,
alone in this room,
[too many lights on]
and the mirror is unforgiving,
resistance doesn't wonder at my blade any longer.
and i don't know what
else,
i must have been wrong.
and i couldn't sleep here.

Card Trick

watched the slow pulse
of the air as it moved through you,
leaves shaken and stirred like the tumble
you've grown used to.

i know you've given me the best of you
and i haven't been blind.
i'm playing cards with a foreign hand,
the dealer smirks, the threat of house victory
flashes over me,
but i don't fold.

my play isn't the ace i have kept hidden [there are many],
but in how i handle all the two's and three's. it's how i play the game.
i have a smirk here too,
the dealer doesn't see it yet.
and this is not a game, i warn.

i've watched you weather my storms and cascades,
and it's a growing gale sometimes,
and sometimes not.
you learn to deflect. i learn to calm the seas with a
whisper.
i know i've got a little magic here,
it flickers.
i've got the surest sign of nothing on my face,
and the dealer can keep his smirk.
i'll take his house down,
brick by brick,
card by card.

the tumble they'll grow used to.

had come undone

it was a trick
the way you could conjure up
old roads.

had a little too much to drink that night
when you trusted me enough
with your truth,
and maybe it's time to take it all in,
sit back and take it all in.
i took another drink.
and i knew you well,
so well in fact, i knew
you could never leave me this way for
just any reason at all.
it had to be good.
and baby, it was good.

so i don't see the harm
in letting you see me like this,
with my faces off,
and i'm weather-worn.
see, i've been dangling my own dreams
in front of me for so long
i had made-believe that you were keeping
me from what i wanted.
it was a lie i trusted, more than you sometimes.
and you were good enough to let me go on, in silence,
on my accusatory-wanderings. and is it lost, what i've been talking about,
is it just another way out?

so i took it in,
i took you in for once in a long, long while.
and you tell me that it's through for good reason.
and i take it all in, i take another drink.
i know you well enough to know
that you are lovingly stepping out of my frame,
and you have had enough.
i know enough to keep my mouth shut, and let you go.
i thought i could keep it all in a glance,
but
it's a trick the way you can conjure up old roads.

Space of a Measure

excuse me,
i think i've floundered a bit.
i got to talking then i slipped a little far down
from where i started.
i thought that maybe we could trade some thoughts,
[you like me a little better when i laugh],
and every time i think of you i start to cough. [something like that]
the thing is is that i've come this far,
not sure where i am, but that i've grown out of my seedling-gown
is obvious.
and it took me a while, i know, to get past the curves and the traps [that i've set up for myself].
and i've thought about it
and i've finally forgiven those
that i've built into demons and plagues [and really weren't we all just learning the steps?].
and the more i walk the more it sets in
that most
of what i've forgiven wasn't mine to forgive
wasn't only the picture i had painted

and i think i've found a new frame.

and i don't think that now
i walk any faster than i did then,
but i'm a little more careful
of what i step on and what i step over,
and sometimes i think of you
and hope it's okay.
i hope it's okay.

you know i hope you're just
fine.

and if it counts for anything
i think that i'd say
you never really hurt me more than i could handle,
[though i forced the blood sometimes, didn't i?]
and i think we scarred each other equally sometimes.

so it's sort of a goodbye [in ways]
but the bud never really forgets
the seed,
it only climbs
and
someday scatters.

[you know i hope it's okay]