I SEE MY PRE-DOOM ROOM

July 24, 2017

 

 

I sweat my bed.

I do all  but dread  there,

One hundred undraped  dreamscapes.

I’d replay and replay

Heaven’s elevator tunes on tape.

Is it true  I did

Fluid-loss & exhaustion,

All that turning and tossing?

I sweat my bed.

First thing is shower head to head,

It takes cold water to weigh

This old man awake to stay down,

Away from high ground.

.

I’d  walked  hard

To find my feet,

To find a way unled

In this far town.

Winds of that farthest town

Of hers are zephyrean dread.

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SOME ON LOSING YOU

July 22, 2017

 

 

 

“Outside… I’m masquerading,

Inside…My hope is fading..”

-Smokey Robinson, from  ” Tracks Of My Tears”

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I’ve seen  winters and  springs

Since I’ve seen a winning hand

But I’m at a loss to say

About losing.

It’s not farfetched to say

I’ve not too far to fall

But it’s best & for the best

For rain and tears to fall

I’m meant not to miss all this all

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I encounter seeing faces I have seen, Countenances

I believe  I know,   abit a blur

I can see the many apparences

Surely, all the one, to me  all lure.

Always

From somewhere  a ways

So familiar in a dream that

Sentences formed for her

presences   are pointless,

When a smile from an eye

is enough.   Not enough.

.

.

A close look!  Too late.  Those closing elevators.

One shine on a glass, as she passes.

A wave or a nod wayover another streetside.

A bolt  from our sure bond  that burns

From another car just as it turns.

We’re silent together and calm

Fifty arms apart in a crowd

In a loud throng.

I’ll see you for a sliver

In all this  time & space, long

In all this  space & time, a pace or two somehow wrong.

OK  I hate that “soulmate” is a fowl cultural cliche’

But it likely could be lifeblood, & have a saving Grace,

But  a  burndon

when things go wrong

And one  one can barely live with

A burndon  one can hardly lay with,

Stay with   when things go wrong

When a soulmate might come  to separate some

Then a burndon  might act up some

might oh might

Just combust some

 

 

 

 

 

 

how Art thou? Do you drink from the deep sink of inspired creations at an art museum, gallery, or maybe a street art fair on a street near you?sometimes?
Do you have something on one of your walls that only you could only fall for?
And, can’t help but stare?
It’s an important thing,dontcha think?
It has been from an early age for me.
I’m told that soon after I found my father who had killed himself (the Hemingway), while all the distraught adults who knew and loved him were off balance with emotional and practical adjustments (like selling the house and moving on)
One forgotten first son had got into several paint cans and expressed quite a colorful statement on the backside of the new house for sale.
I
I was perched  high for me
in a pinepitchtree
and waited out what I did
as I watched our house’s back side
where I painted from all the paint cans
stacked out back. Though very new plans
made us move away from that life.
Daddy had died and left that life.
Somebody and something could only cover
my work.

II

a french girl with hair from the girl in Breathless
was our art teacher that visited
Miss Blue’s 3rd grade class,
and liked my painting so much
she asked if she could take it
for a contest, or a book she was working on.
The blurry greens and blacks,
browns and blues,  was a ship deep in a storm.
I never saw it again but
somebody and something could only recover
my work.

 

 

still, tie me to the mast.

and

I must get the next good grasp
still, the next limb up
to see some.

 

 

 

“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves.  So anyone who’s in love gets sad when they think of their lovers.  It’s like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of. One you haven’t seen in a long time…”

“.. A fond, old, faraway room?”

“Exactly.”

-from “Kafka On The Shore”, Hanuki Murakami

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.

.

We mind that there mustn’t be dust

On those closed blinds.

Behind  those  blinds,

We  find  us.

We find ourselves  salving

Our sore selves,

Saving  us  so

Fleetingly.   Completely.

And after each chapter,

Which did us delirious,

It can be  meant as some payment,

It can serve to defray..

It can’t save us, when in a night and a day,

without fail, We derail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I choose the rooms that I live in with care,
the windows are small and the walls almost bare,
there’s only one bed and there’s only one prayer;
I listen all night for your step on the stair”

Leonard Cohen,RIP, from “Tonight Will be Fine”

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.

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“Would you complain because a beautiful sunset doesn’t have a future or a shooting star a payoff? And why should romance ‘lead anywhere’? Passion isn’t a path through the woods. Passion is the woods.”
― Tom Robbins

 

 

I wonder when one day

We’ll pocket our passions

They’ll fasten  in look-see  neck  lockets

Soon it’ll just seem fair

To wear them

She’ll share hers in sunlight sidewalks.

 

Fashion  will see to it  someday & night We

Could  unabashedly

Could undress off our soft underthings

Could  show  softer

Bold  and  tender

Expressings

AFTER SHE LEFT (Excerpt 1)

August 23, 2016

It’s nonsense you live on

As a sensitive one

False walls should fall

As you give pause to yr farce

I doubt insulation bubbles

Pop so fun  when you can’t stop so

And  open  up

Wounds  et al.

 

“There comes a wave in the sea of men

when you can’t swim back again”  __From “He The Richmond”, Jack Bruce

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ONE TIRED SEA CHANTEY,  SUNG LOW

.

As sure as our hull

Cuts ice ahead like diamonds,

Halcyon Days are just off,

Nigh,  yet I tell in a calm now;

Back,  my port’s special one

Burns no candle, windows dark.

 

Despite that raw night

(I fear more a year)

Came hard, and dispersed me onto gelid fates,

It stays back shore,

But burns deckside.

 

Endlessnesses here

Force me to take times & places,

Passed, and otherwise, &

(What was a special one)  On,

And declare the  difficulty of it all.

.

.

.

(decades on. for sara)

 

 

 

 

i)

When every windy day

We’re over there to the cemetery

When wind chimes sing  from a tree

This  is  Melissa

.

ii)

When friends fade

(Yet, the few you let love you).

When one’s forced to infer

Another gone/next connection

Immense  with interference

Then,  It’s  fierce

When friends fade

.

iii)

You sure yr future dreams come mourning don’t manifest doubtful?

What you want can’t cum out full

As sure as your shy shouts ain’t heard

You’re frightened you mighten  give up on promise.

But never your word.

 

IT’S THE SAME THING

February 12, 2016

C’est la meme chose
Children fall down &
too quickly look for help,and pan-ache.
Men fall &
look to see that no one’s seen
then too quietly ache for help,
quiet a noise as they can make

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.                                       (from 2010)