Ji(n)x
Let me stick that pen in my palm
Let its ink and blood mix
May a poem bring me calm
This line my med or my fix
Love sorry
Inked inventory
along the limbs of love
Tells a restless story
filled with blood, sweat and fear
A heart is sorry
two more uncovered
Between shame and glory
the bed is made for one last tear
Me beggar’s palm
Wrote me poem in me palm
So that when I beg
I give
Wrote me poem in me palm
So that when I reach
I teach
Wrote me poem in me palm
So that when I touch
I speak
Hid me poem in thy dream
that thy clenched fist
protects
Blunt
A jackpot of tea party
The best job offer
For a stolen poem
The first steps of a first born
The tears after the fall
For a stolen poem
The courage to dance blind
The fishermen’s patience
For a stolen poem
Any body parts
Plus a bouquet of irises
For a stolen poem
A unifying theorem that works
The remains of dismantled quarks
For a stolen poem
Our blunt lover’s seeds
In our open palms
For a stolen poem
Sweet
From your sweet lie
I draw a poem
and in your palm
I let it lie
May my desires remain long after I lie down
Half a recycled tree
Tattoo needle juice
Polysenses on double-sided eyes
Undercover signs
My remains these are
On a clear day
I am a living bridge
over the Forever
The river that follow flowers
from Lake Pure to the Sea of Love
On one end I touch the rocky Neverland
underneath my apron is a shelter
for the homeless reader
My other arm touches the wetlands of Plenty
Under me awaits a barge
that lulls new lovers
From my post I can flag
the bird of liberature
for a ride in the air
On a clear day
you can see the night
Here life thrives unabridged
All passes and all returns
on one side or another
of whatever the arches care to teach
From a ridge or a beach
all will smile to you
when on a clear day
like me you see all
the way to tomorrow
Drawn
Meticulously
Courageously
Playfully
Painfully
Hardly
I drew like a child
the letters of my name
the first
not the last
The lines showed hesitation
The shapes were amusing
The arrangement thrived
in approximation
And I had forgotten all of my worries
all the words that came before
all those to follow tomorrow
Meticulously
Courageously
Playfully
Painfully
Hardly
I drew one last time
the letters of my name
the first
not the last
As would do the elderly
I became
Open fire
Snow in the wind
light in the night
the ashes of speech
taken to sea
Long gone am I
my soul, my war
my sad poetry
my loud open fire
The birth of a word
The world of a bird
slides and swirls
under the wings of time
Time flies
Is it time to sing?
The world of the wise
whims and chimes
when the unspeakable hatches
Time lies
Is it time to reason?