Nothing Stays

Nothing stays,

but together we have been our best selves,

so keep an accounting of these graceful hours.

Keep this longing, this want, and this ache in safe and secret places,

and when it is winter in season or soul,

take them out and let them warm you.


Nothing stays,

and when we of this moment have beat away,

Place the longing in your heart,

pour it gently into each chamber until it is the pulse of you.


Nothing stays,

and when we of this craving hour have passed,

divide the want between your arms and legs and shoulders,

it will make you strong and propel you forward so you will never again be snowed in.


Nothing stays,

and when we of these throbbing, reaching seconds are spent,

you'll know where to put the ache. 

It will open you and soak you like spring.

CJ

House Hunting

I am a leaver leaving.

Flying by night, I am here today and gone tomorrow.

I am a leaver leaving, and I never had a home,

nor wanted one.  



I am the ragged man waltzing alone on the corner of Sixth and Bryant.

Arms outstretched,

I hold no one

and I hold the whole world,

as gentle waves of old newspaper roll against my feet.

I am the ragged man waltzing, and I never had a home,

nor wanted one. 



I am a vagabond wandering

across the endless, empty plains inside my chest,

seeking shelter against my sternum

and finding sleep against my spine,

or the cold hard white of my breastbone.

I am a vagabond wandering, and I never had a home,

nor wanted one.



But the moment I saw you standing beneath the glow of the Starbucks sign,

lit-up cities and ancient oceans were sudden in my chest,

and I saw in your eyes the end of my leaving as we danced,

and as we dance still my clumsy dance towards home.


CJ

Over Your Body Beneath Me

My hands lead my mind wandering

over your body beneath me,

were you under my hands this moment.



My hands ache empty

and lead my mind restlessly to search for my hands on your body.

For you are, right now,

under my skin.



You are, right now, under my skin,

though my hands are empty

and my mind is wandering.

And you've been here, under my skin,

for days and years.



Under my skin you run in my blood

so much always I can feel you beneath me,

even when you are not. 



You are not,

and you are always,

under my hands

in my mind

over your body beneath me.


CJ

Going Home (Dear C)

Dear C,

I've lived in a city at the edge of the sea,

lost in a dream of redwoods and fog.

And I have lived briefly, in this strange, high city,

where the mountains and plains collide,

but I am going home.


I'm going south, C,

toward the sound of a sweet southern drawl,

"come on home, darlin'"

it sings to me.

And it is a siren's song,

and I am a tragedy.


I am lit up and alive, C.

I am bat wings beating

all crazy and rising

against the Austin skyline at night.


I'm going home, C,

where the air's so thick, I can hold it

and the summer's a cage

or a hot, wet kiss.


C, say you remember

my deep red center

and the lonesome trains in my eyes,

'cause I'm going home.


CJ

I Don't Know How To Write Wedding Vows

Jill,

I never told you this before,

but I knew it was love because of helium balloons.

On Broadway I saw you standing

beneath the glow of the Starbucks sign.

And there was so much helium in the moment

that my heart beat a high and silly celebration.

And I felt,

Oh my God, this is happy.

You saw me hesitate,

And I saw the question on your face,

but you didn't ask and I didn't say,

"Nice to meet you, but please excuse me,

there are balloons in my eyes."

But the best part is now,

when you know without asking,

and excuse me,

as I stand here devoted and tangled in bright ribbon,

promising to love you every day these 100 helium balloons.

CJ

Finding Home

I just don't know how to be this proud,

except thinking of home,

which is a country, really, in state's clothes,

so ill fitting and tight that the seams strain and rip,

seems about right.



And baby, I can't sing,

except I sing

those songs from home

which are unselfconscious

unplugged

and earnest with harmonica and steel guitar.

Loving you croons such joy and twang.



And girl,

as though you were red earth rising in a west Texas town,

knowing you has left a mark, a stain, a fine grit in my eyes and my mouth.

You kick up and cover me like a down-home wind.



And honey, there has never been a woman like you

or a love like this.

It is a lone star, a long horn, a Stetson.

Yeah,

a Stetson,

rich and curved and every ounce of ten gallons.



And sweet girl, we will always burn

this good whiskey,

bright sun beat down on a red neck burn.

We will.


CJ

Balloons

I love her 100 helium balloons filling a small room,

filling my chest,

lifting my heart until it beats in my throat.

Can you see it?

Balloons, their silly ribbons wrapped around my sore and heavy heart,

lifting, lifting until my throat is full

and I am quiet.

I love her that way,

quiet

and in every color.

It comes down to balloons, I guess.

CJ