(no subject)

			she-poet



the she-poet
      bleeds false starts
      in blue-black ink
    (the purple pen she had grown
     so fond of 
     has given up
            forgotten the heart
         it was supposed
                    to heal
             the mind it was
                    supposed to calm
	  the reality it was 
	         supposed to define)

your chameleon eyes
        have the poet
        tongue tied
    grasping for words
	        and cohesion
    as she grasps for
		      mountain air
    trying to decipher	
              the oxygen
    as she tries to decipher
                     you
and what you have done
                     to 
                     her

the she-poet
      is tired of love
      (it is too complicated
       and hurts too much)

and now for the 3rd 
                    revision
     she edits in red
     hoping it will
	         all go away
and she’ll be able to sleep
     again 
                without tears

but what’s a she-poet
	     without blood and heartache

                and who am i
	            without you



~cdr~
1996 or 1997

(no subject)

			The Maginot Line

There were times when
	the tension built up
	      so that I could almost
	see it.
	 solid. 
	forming a wall
	built of 
	fear and longing
	like the maginot line
	impenetrable
	but easy to walk around

	if we dared.

“What is on the other side”
     we whispered to ourselves
	  (almost to each other)
      curious and confused
   	   by the internal ache
      that screamed
                      from me to you
                                    to me
		(like mirrors
		        set face to face).

I wanted answers
      that you couldn’t give
	(now I realize that there
	        are none
            and maybe  pushed
            too hard for decisions
		          clarity
	       but I just wanted it
                          to make sense).

To be honest, I didn’t 
	know what to want
	because you were a friend
                                     a woman
		          a mirror set face to face
                          against me
	I just wanted the air clear of confusion
		      and to possibly hold you
 		        murmuring sad stories
			and tales of daring
	until sleep arrived.

No defense is foolproof.
But we stumbled onto the secret of bypassing walls
	too late.



~cdr~
1996