you do have me
to have and to hold
I bask in your glow
and wait for your mail
with each new day
a new light
avenues of growth
living and laughter
warmth and connection

I can hardly believe how you have
taken me
taken my sharp edges and worn them down
pushed every layer back
accepting no less
calling me on my bs when appropriate
and swimming in my love and lust

you are gentle and intense
but you love with the passion of fire
you have claimed me and saw something in me
and taken it for yourself
deservedly so
I will protect you from the bad
and cover you in a shroud of love
your Man
Your Spirit
Your being inside of me
I share you
I am you…

“The cock doth craw, the day doth daw
The channerin’ worm doth chide:
Gin we be mist out o’ our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.”
—The Wife of Usher’s Well, traditional folk ballad.

Some people just can’t take a joke.
But Tommy Lee found funny
almost everywhere he looked.

Had he been a stand-up comic
he may have made good money,
or as an author of children’s books.

But Tommy Lee worked in the factory.
And like a kid who never grows up
he was an obsessive practical joker.

Looking back, it’s a miracle
he was never fired, but people say he was
universally admired by his co-workers.

Then one afternoon, Tommy’s fingers
got caught in the machine. And it cut him
clean to both wrists, leaving only stumps.

For two whole days, Tommy’s tongue
was quiet. Then he awoke to the smell
of the hospital, recalled the industrial violence,

and he began to understand:
(he would never work again.)
On the third day, his mother came in,

and she saw Tommy’s chest expand.
And while she cried, Tommy Lee died,
saying: “Look ma, no hands.”

Author’s Note: Of course, actual workplace deaths due to industrial
accidents or workplace safety issues are no laughing matter in the
United States. 4,609 workers were killed on the job in the U.S. in
2011—almost 90 a week or nearly 13 deaths every day. (And this is
the third lowest annual total since the fatal injury census was first
conducted in 1992 by OSHA, the Occupational Safety and Health
Administration.) I have been privileged over the years to be present
at several Workers’ Memorial Day events (organized by OSHA and the
Department of Labor) where I have delivered an invocation in honor of
workers who died on the job in the previous year.

More at http://about.me/dklawitter.

Future hack love
in the machine age
We dream of android dreaming
where cyber breath actually hisses

Ego future disconnect
non tactile response
Phantom heart beating
in the matrix soul

Code the dystopian template
suffer the electric shepherd
to be crucified

need you to show me your body
you need to dress up for me and then strip down
to nothing
I am your audience
I am your voyeur
I know the darkness and the light
you need to do this for me
I need you to expose your being
before me
for me
I am your Raw
you are mine

Mama kneads the dough, dips
her fingers into the cloud as if,
each time, they fade, then reappear.

I drop a ball into her palm.
She rolls, then squashes it, palms flat,
forming a perfect circle.

She hums that Chinese lullaby–
the story of Mouse feet tapping,
then the thump of Lion’s heavy paw.

Plop the mix of ground pork,
spinach, scallions, soy sauce
in the middle of each circle.

Fold the edges over, crimp
one side in a graceful two-finger ballet
until a white quarter moons appears.

Lion lifts Mouse, brown eyes
hungry. Bring water to boil,
slide each dumpling in.

They’re ready when they rise
to the top. Scoop the slippery
half moons into white porcelain.

Lion pours spicy sauce over Mouse,
swallows in a single gulp. Good,
Mama says, smiling.

More at http://byvette.com.

I will shake new leaves
from the mishap tree
The dots will disconnect
from the blood rust
The new light breathes mad flowers
Mad seeds loop the worlds
Chaos feeds everything

I reap from the misaligned
fresh cuts of birth
Zero promises
I will be what I believe
and relativity besets belief
time and zeitgeist pacing
awareness the fate trigger

I poke it with myths
to bag a dragon
I augment that howl
let the poets fall out
the unsolved quickening