The Woman At The Jazz CLub

Deep blue clung to your body as your heels

clacked through the doorway. The rose in

your red hair, hands clad in black satin. I

couldn't help but gaze at you sitting alone

that night. Your beauty was best suited for

another time, another place, one where

you wouldn't be alone.

Sunrise

The children have gone off in bright yellow buses,

parents grab keys and walk through doors to the

cars that will get them to work. Sun lands on my

blanket warming it steadily. I can hear the faint

sound of strings being strummed ride in on the

light. Like a flower bed blooming, or a sunflower

following its beloved, a voice rises, joins the strings.

She is heaven coming through the window. "Holding

someone here who has already disappeared..." Who

I wonder? Her voice quiets as the strings stop. Only

the sound of the day remains.

Midnight Kiss

the heat won't let me sleep as I toss and sweat

between the sheets, casting them off altogether.

the open window lets the midnight kiss come in,

touching cheek, caressing skin. the sound of the

city at a distance, her heart beating restlessly.

the nights warm hand presses my forehead,

closes my eyes, feels the beating of my heart.

small needs

feel the warmth of life from the inside

of its cradle, passionate and giving.

a primal comfort of holding and being

held. small measures of touch and

affection are all we have to bestow to

each other. a kiss is not a promise

to the future, merely a pledge to the

present. darkness is no threat, merely

a home to nestle our heads. these words,

that night, all at an end.

Life Always Kills The Beautiful (for JH)

Seeing your face fills me with a certain

sadness I can't reason with. You stare

back with that joyful smile, what an asshole

you are for being gone. Everyone talked

about it, it was hard not too. It still is.

It's hard to reconcile faith with moments

like that. This wasn't the hand of a just

and loving god. This was the hand of a

fragile person trying to find a way through

this. If life can kill a man like you, what

hope do the rest of us have? We wish you

were back here with us. When speaking

of the dead they always say that they're

"in a better place." I hope that it's really

true in your case. Rest well my friend.

Rest well.

Sins of the Saints

Every Saint was a Sinner though the

good book may neglect to mention

that fact. There is salvation through

our imperfection if we dare seek it,

if we dare embrace it.

Second Sight

He was leading her firmly and confidently

through the crowd of people. Each step was

one of marked determination and assurance.

She could do nothing more than to trust his

instinct to keep her from harm. Some of us

could learn to be more trusting.

Picking Up The Mail

You never thought that

Hell would be a place

you ever lived in (you

even get your mail there

for goodness sake). Our

lives never turn out

quite as planned.

For Lady Madonna

Lady Madonna in my arms,

how beautifully you dance

in moonlight. Face in repose,

arms around my neck.

Lady Madonna in my arms,

your troubles have all gone.

In moonlight we wash away

the sins of a weary world.

Lady Madonna in my arms,

have you found your peace?

The day divides us, night

unites us.

Lady Madonna.

Darker Days

Crawling to the bottom of the darkness

into the earth below, light is lost.

Eyes adjust easily, lungs inhale

the hot and fetid air. Feet trod

through the dampness further

and further in. Dirty skin sweats

the rags with another layer of

human primer. Tiny paws and

claws scurry frantic with the

approach. These children are

always lost and too many to

count. A continuous present

is marked by the folly of the

past, ghosts haunting lives

in a way more terrifying

than any movie ever could.

Feet stop and stoop down,

an endless ache bogs the body

into rest. Curled up against

endless shadows, the sound of

the children scurrying about

in the abyss.

On Language:

Language is perhaps the most amazing

of all human accomplishments.

Sidewalk Story

The living stereotype was dressed in a

knee length leopard print coat,

white pants, a fedora and a cane

fashioned from a tree branch.

"Bitch better have my money!"

he said to no one in particular.

Everyone stood in silence as he

walked through the small crowd.

He said it again, perhaps hoping

to elicit a response from us. It

wasn't going to happen. An

eternity of seconds passed before

he resumed his walk down the

street. At the end of the night I'm

sure that's all anyone in that crowd

was going to remember the next

morning. I wonder if he ever found

her and got his money.

who/m?

muscles over run by

blind impulse and desire.

its for the best that

we maintain

a distance.

Who is saving Whom?

Tell Me If You Do

I wrote this one for you.

Only you and

no one else.

There is a subtext you

will understand,

you and

no one else.

You get it.

Or do you?

Late Night Overtures

We reach out in our loneliness,

boredom or drunkenness.

Anytime we need that connection

we reach that hand out

waiting for another's touch.

Fingers and tongues

loosen their restraint

like belts unfastening.

The words tumble clumsily,

falling down teeth onto

the tongue and slurred out.

Overt emotional overtures

are the modus operandi

to these late night confessions.

In private company there is always

a moment of hesitation, awkwardness

before that touch, that kiss.

Passionate discourse warms the skin,

makes the face glow, perspire, caressing

hands and soft moans warp time.

It becomes an intoxication without end,

more nights, more desperate overtures

to sate an endless hunger.

We reach out in our loneliness

hoping to find a cure.

Fever Dream

these broken teeth

cut so jaggedly ,

a failed symmetry.

where the inquiring mind runs

the subconscious will follow.

hear the wind, my brother.

here,

the wind,

my brother.

picking words from the breeze.

Bouquet

a prick

then

s

c

r

a

p

e

as it cuts through skin,

blood forming a thin line.

sweet rose.

Endless Kiss

There are times when the windows

are down and the night kisses you

so coolly that each moment grasps

you by the back of the head and

refuses to drink from any other cup.

Feral

running over pavement and onto asphalt,

screeching tires and honking horns curse

and gesture. a slobbering mess with delirious

eyes, sweat dripping like rain all around it.

turning its head upward, it catches a scent

in the wind. bounding through the daylight

it heads to a newer heated passion.

strange people in dark places

stranger

let me near you.

stranger

let us find

some comfort

in the darkness.

stranger

let us find

each other

alone again.

A Rose For Dali

Some were sitting

some were standing

in the driveway

as the moonbeams

were aided by the

lamps on the ground.

As those string were

strummed, your voice

cried out an honesty

that made us all weep.

Consultation

Simplify the situation to achieve

a greater sense of clarity.

"Is that all it is?"

It can be.

"Every time I try to things only end up more complicated."

That's only because you haven't simplified enough.

"Some things I just can't let go. It feels like a weight that's

been sewn onto my back. How do you get rid of something like

that without ripping off chunks of your own flesh?"

That may be what you need to do.

"I'm scared to do that."

We all are.

Images Of A Morning Conversation

thousands,

millions

of ants

crawling across

your skin.

endless feet

marching.

bound,

there is

nothing

you can do.

screaming

to no one

at all,

silence.

endless feet

crawling

all over you.

I Know What I Am Doing

It's a conscious choice I have made

to let you have that small piece.

Blank

Why does your white face haunt me?

Staring without expression,

eyes affixed to my failure.

Staring uncomfortably at me,

I turn away ashamed

at my shortcoming.

"...everything is fine."

It's a rough transition to be sure,

especially if you didn't see it coming.

I think that is one of the things that

worries people the most. Making that

leap is never easy and not everyone is

ready to. It was easy for me, I let it

embrace me. Once I did that, there

was no fear or hesitation. Definitely

the best move I've ever made. When

you see what it's like, I know you'll

love it here.

Fresh Cement

when your finger touches the smooth

fresh cement,

it can't help but immortalize

itself.

Lobster

As the

water

warms

the pot,

does a

lobster

dream

of better

things?

Lobster from Ruben Fleischer on Vimeo.

A Comment On TIme

It is not so much

the passage of time

as the space between

the days and the years

that have passed us by.

moth

flitting upwards towards the light,

fate is sealed with a primal instinct.

closer, closer, closer...

from light

darkness.

Paradise

Ripening on the vine

and growing in clusters,

your green hue

draws my fingers in.

your sweet taste

dripping from my lips.

Verano Sin Fin

Our Summer could be endless

if we wished away

the leaves of the Fall

into grey gutters.

Our Summer could be endless

if we wished away

the snowflakes of Winter

back into the rapid currents.

Our Summer could be endless

if we wished away

the blooming of Spring

into the empty vases of a million homes.

Our Summer could be endless

if we remembered

the endless Summer

that was our youth.

Ourselves

Our heaven is temporary.

Our memory is fleeting.

Our body is aging.

Our fears are deep seated.

Our joys are exuberant.

Our disappointments private.

Our love is passionate.

Our voice is confident.

Our silence is deafening.

Our words are comforting.

Our patience, endless.

Honesty and it's alternatives

Don't pretend

more than you have to,

Don't pretend

if you don't need to.

Honesty's a good policy

if nothing better is around.

Draining The Spirits

draining the spirits

from the form,

darkness brightens

as we stare

into the night

towards dawn.

Late Night Serenade For Sharon

Let longing be the reminder

of days past.

Let memory serve as the bond

between us.

Let words of conversations

past be our serenade.

Let your beauty be forever burned

into my heart.

Reasons to Cry

We don't always cry

because of pain,

sometimes

we cry

at how

beautiful

something is.

Everything Summarized

Run your hand along a wooden

surface long enough and there

is bound to be a splinter.

Drip and Drop

the spirit

collects into a puddle

on the floor,

you wonder,

how did it

get there?

Humbling

keep yourself humble,

you are never as good as you think.

dig deeper and try to bring

out the good within.

Pressure Release Valve

gripping throbbing temples

to soothe the aching head,

we do our best to keep the

pieces from exploding out

ward from us into the air.

Guesswork

What

should we make

of this?

Something?

Anything?

Nothing

at all?

Just rampant

speculation

for now.