Monster

You say you may
have a monster inside,
but I see the light that rushes through every opening -
your eyes, your smile -
a soft glow emanating from the pores of your skin.
You think this thing in you is a monster
because you seek to please an absent god.
This part of you…
your desires, your fears –
the least-refined part,
the roughest, dirtiest, darkest part -
I picture a mossy cavern,
wide and dripping with the earth’s cool sweat –
this inner core of you
is not a place where a beast lies curled and awaiting prey
(would you be its prey,
or would it compel you to prey on others?).
It is a place where
the raw essence of you is rooted,
where your thoughts are powerless,
where it is your instinct that propels you
into motion;
it is where your roots
connect you to the earth,
where your heart
finds its rhythm.
Don’t deny yourself
the pleasure
of being
authentic.
You are exquisite,
all the way down to your roots.

Scraps of Poetry from the Road

You awoke the dragon
but it has only just occurred to me
that you have no intention
of taming it.

            ~ ~ ~

There was Jon Long,
who wasn't,
and John English
who only spoke french.

            ~ ~ ~

I push so many boundaries 

that I'm surprised maps don't spontaneously combust 

in my presence.

            ~ ~ ~

The more distracted you are
the less attracted I am;
and yet I remain a tattered little moth,
drawn to the flaming mass of you.

            ~ ~ ~

Those other boys?
They are placebos;
you are my addiction.