I have been dreaming of labyrinths...

There is the endless locker room, cast in a fierce blue, stalls and shower heads jutting akimbo with no rhyme or reason. About the benches are strewn moist towels, just used. The men they belong to are elusive, hidden behind the next bend, and I move through the rooms quickly, hoping to catch them in their intimacy. I can smell their virility.

... and writing short poems...

#1

The day water stopped being wet,
we had not tears to cry.
We held each other;
Drying up,
and waited there to die.

#2: Fierce Violet

As deep purple and sticky as the entrails of a childhood phantom
so cold against your tiny hand.

#3: Morbid Obesity

We called the boss
"Your son is here."
There was a silence.
How many?
Fifteen, so far.
What the hell is he doing?

Crying.

#4

We were in the jungle
studying a forgotten people
The night before the big feast we realized,
their language had no future tense.

#5

It was five days after she had been made over
they let her take home all the new clothes and lotions,
the free gym membership and the free waxing coupons in the trash.
It was just before noon on the fifth day
and she had already eaten the entire cake by herself.

There is just no changing people.

#6: Conquest

There is no more land to discover
so we travel the terrain of each other’s bodies.

#8

There is not a thing in this world that light and sound cannot fix,
nothing is broken forever.
Especially not people.

...and trying not to be seduced by simple pleasures.