When the heart beats, the heart bleeds–
It has no other choice.
In the midst of unmet need it cries
To find a silent voice.

Darkest night, that of the soul
Hollowed out in pain:
Knowing only emptiness,
The deepest, blackest stain.

A pleading going all unheard,
A single, oft-repeated word,
A crippled, hunted, flightless bird inside.
Something has died.

Hurt Me

Hurt me, please…
I need it. I feel it
In my bones, the groans,
The tremors of longing
For belonging.

Wrangled from my rock of
Lonely ages; saved from
Pages upon pages of drama
Poorly written. I am smitten;
I am lost; I am careless of
The cost. Name your price,
And I will pay it; write the part
And I will play it. Use me, muse me,
Only choose me. Chew me up and
Spit me out; knock me down and
All about.

Hurt me, please…
Pluck my beating heart and
Cast it on the ground
Before me, then ignore me
As I fall.

The Late Great, or, Feeling Sorry for Myself

Everything went so well
Until I
Turned from the agreed route
And headed out on my own…and then,

The words I shared were once
Admired, and then
All at once
The world grew tired…and I
Was fired.

It is not that I crave
Position; it is not that I fear
Rendition. I will speak, I
Will seek…but this losing streak
Weighs heavy.