II
Where else would my eyes look
if not in?
I can see you, your body,
but only my soul in your eyes.
I have learned about boundaries
until I became very small.
I have learned about loneliness
until I was a giant.
My heart is huge and bursts
on the mirror.
I see pain and love in my eyes.
And so much patience.
So much patience I could puke.
And then there is anger.
No one comes close.
No one gets too close.
You'd think I could find
the root of my rage –
but not yet.
So many more breaks to fulfill.
So many more abandonments.
Bitter medicine.

III
Would you whisper a secret to me
if I gave you a clue?
What could you want to know
about me that you don't already know
about yourself?
I've told you my mirrors are
covered with blood, tears.
I've shattered them to get at the truth.
Still there's some question
about boundaries, and trust.
Couldn't we just forget all this
time stuff and start healing?
Give me some insight
some lesson to learn once and for all,
and I'll grant you a wish.
I can work magic
and I know how to please.
Now please tell me to go away
and fulfill this dream once again
for old time's sake
before I puke or wake up.
Damn patience.

IV
It gets exasperating
and a little frightening
to stretch beyond the light
into unknown territory,
darkness, doubt, distant memory.
Who is there to touch me?
All of you.
I have seen you all in the dark
twinkling in your little lives.
Fulfilling dreams of heartbreak.
Shattering my mirror of youth.
I am not an old man.
I have so little wisdom.
I can see into eyes,
become one with the struggle,
the dance.
I call forth the name of
the paradox, the medicine,
as I gasp for air
reaching up for the light.
The secret is whispered.
The name is mine.

V
Hold me.
Fill me with trust
and unmet infancy needs dissolving.
If I were truly learning
to be my own parent
would I still need you?
Can I truly hold myself,
nurture that little boy
without destroying him?
Who are you anyway?
Have you ever really been there?
How can I nurture that part of me?
I don't know how
and I'm afraid.
How much more honest can I be.
Is there really a way
to be that complete without dissolving?
Hold me – if you dare.
I will let go – I will let go of you.
I will let go of me.
I will let it go – let it go.
Let go.

VI
I saw a T-shirt pass by:
"I may be getting older
but I refuse to grow up."
Sad mirror.
Is the root of my rage
closing in on me?
Can you whisper that secret to me
and not throw up?
Can we dissolve into each other's eyes
and forget how very small we are?
Are we not truly alone
forever and ever?
Or do we join together in the light
as the universe implodes
on the crucifixion of space and time
in this eternal moment of now?
Damn patience – I need time.
I used to write this crap in bars.
Perhaps I could fulfill a new dream
if I dare to hold myself,
dare to let go, look in,
see me everywhere.

VII
It's summer in the neighborhood.
Young men are dying.
I'm losing my ability to trust.
It's summer and we're all looking
for someone to keep us warm.
The universe imploded.
I let go. Got through to the other side.
Nothing much new.
Who are you anyway?
Each person is in his small body,
inside his skin.
Each light shines out in all directions,
a network of human souls
intertwined with desire and drama.
Every moment a new healing,
a new secret.
Young men are becoming their own parents.
Young men are dying, changing,
reaching, touching, becoming one
with the light and life.
Nothing much new.
I'm enough.