Back out of all this now too much for us,
Back in a time made simple by the loss
Of detail, burned, dissolved, and broken off
Like graveyard marble sculpture in the weather,
There is a house that is no more a house
Upon a farm that is no more a farm
And in a town that is no more a town.
The road there, if you’ll let a guide direct you
Who only has at heart your getting lost,
May seem as if it should have been a quarry—
Great monolithic knees the former town
Long since gave up pretense of keeping covered.
And there’s a story in a book about it:
Besides the wear of iron wagon wheels
The ledges show lines ruled southeast-northwest,
The chisel work of an enormous Glacier
That braced his feet against the Arctic Pole.
You must not mind a certain coolness from him
Still said to haunt this side of Panther Mountain.
Nor need you mind the serial ordeal
Of being watched from forty cellar holes
As if by eye pairs out of forty firkins.
As for the woods’ excitement over you
That sends light rustle rushes to their leaves,
Charge that to upstart inexperience.
Where were they all not twenty years ago?
They think too much of having shaded out
A few old pecker-fretted apple trees.
Make yourself up a cheering song of how
Someone’s road home from work this once was,
Who may be just ahead of you on foot
Or creaking with a buggy load of grain.
The height of the adventure is the height
Of country where two village cultures faded
Into each other. Both of them are lost.
And if you’re lost enough to find yourself
By now, pull in your ladder road behind you
And put a sign up CLOSED to all but me.
Then make yourself at home. The only field
Now left’s no bigger than a harness gall.
First there’s the children’s house of make-believe,
Some shattered dishes underneath a pine,
The playthings in the playhouse of the children.
Weep for what little things could make them glad.
Then for the house that is no more a house,
But only a belilaced cellar hole,
Now slowly closing like a dent in dough.
This was no playhouse but a house in earnest.
Your destination and your destiny’s
A brook that was the water of the house,
Cold as a spring as yet so near its source,
Too lofty and original to rage.
(We know the valley streams that when aroused
Will leave their tatters hung on barb and thorn.)
I have kept hidden in the instep arch
Of an old cedar at the waterside
A broken drinking goblet like the Grail
Under a spell so the wrong ones can’t find it,
So can’t get saved, as Saint Mark says they mustn’t.
(I stole the goblet from the children’s playhouse.)
Here are your waters and your watering place.
Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.

Man life know just set eyes way like young world soul day hunger space mouth earth thoughts ignorance blind things mind knew final moment human creation kind creatures souls high forgotten dream love spoke self existence face holy deep bound think home void say surrender ear forever called held ephemeral red state end shall heed hope edge living waking fall sea wake garden need February thought past wanderer got men page colored tepid terrible **** proudly untitled features point painted faceless box forgot render wild spring splendor  handfuls looking half brain lost torn ancestral  unseen vision inner summer honor mister owned banner save today fear groans wasn't smoke  street fable strange year contrast black years  able pain body spoken word known motion  palpitate reeling nature culture disclaimers  cancer beg attentive frames ****** base profound double remember wholly finger death token  cries continue folk oh fishing form broken true  divides spread ah twas away breathe wait warning hallowed wish closer lens turn eye live  constant current author hung theory dangle  bramble chemical new force changes adderall  anymore giving beneath possess pardon commentaries eternity internal walk reason  long change does idea glimpse consciousness  wandering simply wonder physical dreams war  sleep told rest benign prior begging truth little  2012 born tale crow bowels allegory animal rule  exasperate making horse curse hands ones read  rearrange capture doing command fail awake  aperture seedlings shift steely sir nap spead ****** demons slits clever telling loud spits la-la-di-dah killing slip game reflected nameless ask  lovers rabid bear salivate plunder shameless  famously savior mint rides menthol bully fate traded melodies play misunderstand mammals gentle witless fine utterly savage silt tongue-less  dirt dilutes pure non-sensory taste briefly ravage dismember it''ll shedding ruined curtain  knots offers plot fulfills munificent two-act  relegates boxz bug altruistic wintergreen tossing  callously guise grovels one's singers treachery ashes mid-life mutter fashion parading  ambiguity separatist liars staple steeping neath  guidelines scoffing stitch moans civil wrote  Fictitious undoing fables table effigies serve  sonnets staged remark psalm swoll praise harken  beggar verse bread lines heavily electricity detection snow sack-happy preaching credit  spotted wicked best gravity gun campaign owe  barge choir revelry celebratory satiated sinking  headline pack hound persistently propaganda  gentlemen excluding diminished ******* run idles  occupied levies wolfishly honestly misinformation cuba vehemently dumb grace spectator erasing  toned sage crowded secrets inter-connectivity  loaned prayer hymns grave mistaken magnified  vandals selective jump leak escapes says minister  buckle mass honesty shut tar children's hats  monument doping long-lived electrical ladle  exaggerated cartoons address seconds cool cradle bleak yang's mind-framed hypnotic  walker caps folly treble claim streaks mixtures  swelled interstate elapse teasing spoon mobile  succulent witchcraft borderline fatal 99 temple stacks sups plastics creeps neurotic ills tossed  meek sipping old crack interlock wax alleyway  coughing blown freak clock birthdays societies  slow flashing viscous candy argument toothless  pills cerebral rapt wall bisect lives wheezing  photo kid starter foiled pair saturated self-castrating pre-packed naked uncertainly pill  used came chaos coated reprisal fells wrack  irreverent mirth sickly disinherited proudest  collate wheeze appearance palette disharmony  discontented bastardized emotive bio inhale diction beat spoiled reclamation loudest tempo  totally disembodied matte imperfect shells flat  struck sounding imparts flak origin severance remarked bone walls snared leaflets mocking  hot scripting adjective noun agape seemingly  resistant gawk calamity passage paintings wind  trashcans signings sits cheap makers poetry persist scrap slipping individual talk wonders  leaving questions fold actor fancy parchment  fates engenders flown jaws stripped longer music  sacrifice fakers book boldly frown sigh atop patient hang trade occupation blows spectacular  whispers worthy backward waving certainty danced suppose needn't ‘drawkcab’ second-guessing  boys forget marched motto heads tightly lies two-tone earthbound harp twice turns goodnight  lying ***** internally indiscriminate nickname  drunk convictions myth steep  in-consumption  fitting artist **** universal sick expressions bad  du spell melody big siphon proud learn sprawls song spastic something temperaments utter check  fissures stomp totality blend definitely thrall sing rug voice shade pestilence ties commiserate round devil steady brains emotional certain gate  suckling gates dearth decay weight bounce pound  carrier pangs glass startle contest earthen web  tug pressed air patience flush amassed guest gone apprehension staring empathize captain believe fading in-perceivable deathbed guarder makes surrounds scatter drooling ebb blink cob tome  venom near door lair derision draws host stairs scent parts curiosities spider webbing surprise wares tips stepping ascetics starkness realize picture surroundings dictations grand pillars  deaf limited comparisons greet visual residents  personal settings dismiss alien law stability common earthly shiftless places prelude  understanding mosaic keen trifling embodiments  geared inception whisper visible jowls kiss murky  puddle rank dawn dichotomy single faithful fraying pays tailor veil climb mores pence whim  breath wellspring samara god stony pear  shadows fruiting forebodes moonlit looming  shown passed bog gold wracked faint tongues  noble preachers mirror shifting layered depth  threads jungle narcissus bemused seamstress self-worshiping architect's wore slumber anomalous  opened barren seam lip caustic scene coupled brick gardener's clenches -with forms idle breed  embodied lore starving empathy design illusion  tree coat fabricate lucid mason scatter-all  narrative seeking imbued 16th shivering chemicals 17th 15thrisk improperly dare  deliberate plan purge try brought chapter speed  aide utmost spirit leading intervention felt  recall recent advent sincerity times diary  lackluster piously lasting happy holding hear  stem tasteless whimpers wet spine monstrosity  dripping causes position quite softly claws pallet  answer digging tearing beast satiating circle breaks skips redwoods beckoning rotted hushed  gray lapsing monoliths deities creborus  imbuement hand stroll paradigm rendered chorus shy whispering forest residual tension  surrenders tolerance lull anew sentenced  bearing tide birds dirge divergent rim joined  cogs wood hesitant mist emergent towering offer  awareness confinement inverted faultier stowed  plane sanctified blanketing trusting memory fossil flash twists laden self-indulgent fleeting invitation agony grip shore impetus lingering  crows promise gift union swallowing endless floor supposed ecstasy sensory intent  psychotropic cradling placement interned  jagged connectivity exchange congenial begun  summons singular spiral assumes ambient reciprocates re-entry fruition reached aggregate lifetime limbs birthed instinct  frightening tarry proper entire light  boundaries innocence pursuit ago discover left  youth's unknowing sacred time place meager  simple fact cast ceaseless wide-eyed literal  apparent coincidence create boldness morphed  crooked kempt mere stumble buried shutter fairy  pivotal definitive months worth shear ambition sound required journeyed self-reflections title  facets vague restless intimation gut wanderer's  leap motivate path account boy soon bears faith  question tripped reasons uproot awaited confronted days step heal provocations wisps crushing transcend chronicles instance  directness raw drove occurrence objective-less  real enters slightest confident nondescript  typify  foreshortened interment paradox bitter heart  devoid jeopardy angry sensation confidential guilty arrogance mercy compliance reprieve  vincent deadening factual sign emotion awe  inhibition shackled butterflies absence actual sciences acknowledgement violent stagnant  spiritual American doors roots lack matted fore  gestures society cause streams intensity hair impossible discord lonely hearts resounding  jest  what's flavored pains closed toxic contented  happenstance scientific knowledge yeah  wizardry shaking stifled withdrawn bloom  jitter dreads settle asocial hulton make  predisposed figurative reflections demeanors  wondered affect hulton's projected sense  morning industry arrays ghosts feeling  certainly endomorphic where's partially wrath  passer mornings jovial unease advertized asking  trash onward wished tempers media mentality connect pasts sharp-toothed scramble great colours trial test salvation continually lent  degree secretly subjection social waned  disconnected colors grimly intellectual civilization cash trading baffling particular  digest myths monumental ending seasons winter  repetition introducing agent everlasting  shoulders delivered honestly-- possession funny  continence history unsightly function suffering propulsion profession divulge familiar tugs era  importance capability perpetuation spite inventory words entirety leveling fray insight  date record continues writer getting evermore fellow tongue possessions identical proof accuracy education similar sack admittance  favor unravel conveyance guilt gives beginnings  predicting audacity definition bobby heady eaters frameless learned release stone grandeur sang  speak molds sleeps split built seats people folded  sheer pour evoked playhouse liquid boring  tellers frayed stark walked reality pleas doth  preformed shows beak pride squawks opinions  greatest bold stunning sightings he'd loudly slain  sunk watch legend precipice theater deeper compound commentator civility justly silly sin  reverent seen prophetic moral confounds notion  lacking explain attempt prolific viral estrange proclivity scorn hide blur pious strung eden's  horror cut skin arch cruel twig mother vile  pass lend woods peach shrunken trail man's canopy worn 434 eat warm limb familiar father delete.

You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?

And it's difficult to remember something as the very name of Eisenhower
Or flowerbaskets
And tired movies made of silicone and
Aftersex
Or sixteen candles echoing out of an imaginary suite with cigarettes at every table
And green lawns
Barbershop conversation
The reflection of the sun in special trees
Or my best friend Jesus Christ
Or the smell of the theater that one day with the cynics who just got back from a tennis match and barbwire still laced delicately around their thoughts and
Nihilism
And automotives
And priestess Jane or Henry's gloomy doppelganger who reads alternative magazines and loves the aesthetics behind broken glass
And fine tuned musical instruments

It's difficult to remember
Lonesome Fridays smoking on a park bench trying to finish the puzzle
Or synagogues you've never been in
Or insurance
Or newspaper articles detailing the misadventures of Mr. City
(Of course of course! Take your shoes off at the door and make yourself at home)
We're tossing all our sewage into the ocean
that's far from clean as it
LOOKS anymore these days
That's anything
And everything except for the glowing mountains seen faded and wintry behind Apartments and the
"Glorious Mexican House of Spices"
Never been in there either

It's difficult to remember
Times of Mr Twin Sister
Or Joan Jett in the hallway
In a highschool who's psychology classrooms have become a time capsule in the ground/
Or the gentle skinny ******
Wearing Broadway makeup and
Kafka tattooed on his shoulder
I like his hat
He looks at me suspiciously
Or the guy who is yelling his order at the counter when it's quiet here anyways
Or the mariner who has a hobby of the saxophone
Or 1970s *******
Or the sheepskin bikeseat fad that's yet to come but I'm predicting it now!
Or two dollars and twentyseven cents at the beginning of Allen Ginsberg's America
"I've given you all and now I'm nothing"

It's difficult to remember
The Oriental
Sacramento flies
Midnight Moon
Quarter to four
"The Immortalization Commission"
Remodelled hotels downtown
Where mandalas on the floor became a
Tiger lily luminous
And the kimono is yesterday's painting/
Dearest Darling
When I was feeling down!
A staircase in reverse (??)
The sound a kiss makes
It's difficult to remember
Colleen's earrings
Or Washington State
Or air conditioners in Bali
The Indian ocean's daybreak hymn
To Seminyak
Or whatever happened to Steve from the Airplane out of Taiwan
On 3 days awake
Hello Kitty nursing stations
****** (Kubrick's version)
Cardboard taking up half my bedroom
It's difficult to remember until I jot it down and then its a sudden forever
Sunshine Superman in a cafe spontaneous
drawings with someone I just met who has some ******* attitude/
Who hops fences and has feral ideas
People! En Masse! Te Amo!
You're all in wolven liberty
And vague postulators
And holy prostitutes for the dollar
Sad eyed intellectuals
With undergarments made of breakfast cereal/
Seaferry poetry is different from
Trestle in August poetry
Or henna handshakes
Or the Napoleonic era
Sweet Cherry Pie
The tulip's tongue
Garabajal
Cloudy first day of July
Was hotter yesterday
But not too hot

It's difficult to remember
Antiquity
The pale horse Studebaker outside the clinic
With a glossy red trim and **** I wish that was my ride
Andy Warhol's exploding plastic inevitable
Nearsightedness
Angels and their ability to shower with a a snap of their fingers
Distant harp music
Better him than me
Bananas almost ripe
Green aquatic
Reclusive junkies
Palomo's appliances
Questions for the next time
How much I like what you like and how I like that you like what I like
Ahh that's not my bus
I'm trying to get to the city!
That one quote Socrates is known for about knowing nothing as true wisdom
Supermarkets being built on top of liquor stores burned down a while back
Monopolies
Tragedies
"No Love Lost"
THE HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL
Your guess is as good as mine
Never tried to eat Asian food in Asia
It was all pasta and good cider that tasted like pineapple
Rain hitting the window and I'm
Drowsy again
God Save The Trees!
Curly hair looks good on boys
Torn up blinds
Queer as a three dollar bill
If Bill costs 3 dollars I'm sure he's caught something better safe than sorry
Sage advice
I'm the very model of a modern major general
Golden yen and international currency
Incense in the bedroom and how good it smells
There's my bus! Applying for a better job than the one I got now
But that's how it always is right?
Chasing satisfaction
1007 apt
Porch ornaments
Unique names
Unique style le style
The extra charge on foreign ATMs
Cordoroy polo shirts
Flooding in New York!
When someone's face screams *******
"Slippery when wet"
Dine N Dash
Grass gone yellow
Confidence in dyed hair and capes as long as wedding gowns
But less expensive
Doors that always seem to be locked and I'm wondering 20 year later what's behind them?
Albino animals
White thoughts as clouds or
Abstractions
Weathers nicer in Florida but who cares
Festivities this early in the day
Automatopeia
Do sad orphanages still exist?
Just like the movies
Midnight in mirrors
That sick puppet at the shoe shop used
To know how to really hammer it down
And now he's weak and forgotten
Never heard the words of a true prophet only Oceania
Or the private temple near Apollo Bay
Like Japanese gardens behind that gate
Will I ever see it
Make a proud example outta ya misbehavior
Form without function
Exhausted spiritualism
*** Kettle Black
negative photographs of dark rooms
And there's laughing coming from SOMEWHERE
Essays on kleptomania
Had a bad dream I became a cliche
Surrounded by other freaks and there was a lovely ***** I fell in love with her
We married in Oregon by the sea her name was rosy
***** rosy
Check your mailbox for nails
And what you don't wanna hear/
If you were a vegetable you'd be organic!
Empire
Satirical bubble gum
Satori
Linda Lovelace and her special party trick
That's someone's fantasy
Diamond in the rough
Mister guy with two black eyes frequents the adult playhouse
Hes fully stocked on fishnet leggings
He's too proud to put them on himself but
Has nobody else around
Boo hoo
Swigs back the whiskey and trips down the stairs getting a third black eye in the process
Marion came by with her dog the other day
Wanted her box of clothes back but he loved to sniff them to remember her
But she wouldn't have it

"Honey I'm going to call the police!"

"Ah they don't give a **** they have bigger things to worry about"

"Yeah you got that right shrimp **** enjoy my unwashed *******"

And she never came back again
He started losing the vertebrae in his spine 1 by 1 and you know where this is going
I won't say he was a poor man because he had it all coming to him the *******
But he coulda had a better start if you ask me.

It's difficult to remember
And even more difficult to forget
After the fact

Seagull opera
Giganticism
Portrait of the artist as a young man
Losing one's pencil when the best idea of your life drops down from heaven and into your sorry head
Signs graffitied to have funnier meanings
Cruelty
Impassive
The Loyal Lioness
And Bangladesh has too many kitchens
And not enough dishes
When I was young I used to say Island as "is-land"  
Which is true it is land
But the Europeans probably stole it from somebody else anyways/
I left my future behind
And objects in the mirror are closer than they appear
Im no illusionist
I'm terrified of the cracken
Father feels the same way about
Hotels
Why bother/
This has been going on and on for a while are you tired yet
Is your patience being tested
Mine isn't because this wasn't an all-at-once kind of rambling
It's extremely important to laugh at least
Once a day
Otherwise you'll find yourself a politician
In no time at all
Rockefeller
(         ) Quaint home to die in
I think
Trains create great music
Float on
Sink into yourself
Roses in a crooked alley
That's people
Busy busy busy busy
Let's describe a situationist
I'm not a fan of bright colors on clothes
Your best shade is blue
Bricklayers transcription of Don Quixote to a skyscraper
Rocket thyme
& Garden
Erratic children's
Insomnia
The doorbell repeatedly
Vancouver riots/ I saw that live on the news!
Pictionary with the surrealists
N Dada TV set MC Escher
Antenna
You're in the Twilight Zone now
Dear Ramona
I'm trying to make it up to you
With a brightness only seen when you're ready to see it so please for the love of God don't blame me when it's not appearing
The tapestry hidden
Keep your blankets clean
And avoid hospitals unless you're fine with fishbowls & the halogen
The water gestapo
Storage lockers full of unacted plays and
Antique microwaves
Emitting the nostalgia of the cold war era
And what a waste of time that was /
Walter Wanderleys presence in Autumn universities
The opening of Vivre sa Vie
Salvador Dali's pluvial taxi
Lightbulb epiphanies
Aquariums and their protestors
Zebras in the shade
Two wrongs dont make a right
Elizabethan theater
Saloon shootouts in a fever dream
I lost and bled out all over the rustic wooden floor
A maiden reached out for me and El Paso did play I woke up and pretended nothing happened/
Funerals for bad People who did bad things
My first memory of a cat beneath the mattress
Hello Dolly!
Auditory learning
Psychotherapy
Lillian the landlady lost her ladle and labeled little Lyle as a lair
The Black panther movement
Reading symposium some years ago and
Making note that Phaedo was still my favorite dialogue/
Zen Buddhism
Xoxo xoxo
The day Gypsies were replaced with
Surface ****** appetite
And not the real thing
Newspaper clippings
Hypnotism when all other options are out
Mystical visions of sidewalks
And the love of your life stepping through a door you've never seen
Maybe Yes No I Don't Know
Creature comforts
Che Guevara's problem is that his beard made him too easy to recognize
(Also that little hat!)
Chinese cough medicine didn't work
For long I still wheeze sometimes
Domestic violence thru the wall
Ceiling fan probably doesn't even work!
Dimpled laughter
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
In skytrains to Commercial
Bermuda in her mind
And courtesy in her voice
I'm no Arthur Rimbaud
But you already knew that
Alcazar of Seville
Filling up the shipbottle
Here's your paradise
Now relinquish it as it is
False!
Hare Krishna
Nowhere Fast
El Diablo and the
Portofino loaf left rotting on the countertop
Latin children speak of the sacred viper
You'll hear of it after this but we'll never see what the ******* meant
Heads alternating round the social current
Of my lively city
There's a dog soaking up the rain
And songs are made in honor of
Recent catastrophes
Trials are dealt
Cards cast to the gutter
New York quiets down for the news of another war
You scratch my back I'll scratch yours
Skeleton key
Ballad of the last wailing zoo
THE ATRIUM
Complexity in simplicity
That's how Brainard got me!
Elderly overcoats
Hiding purest LSD
Is a fan of Hawaiian T shirts
And a communist
What if I was a Freemason
Or owned a tanning salon
Faint crimson
What did Marv look like again?
"You're surrounded by people who love you"
Coffee when one needs it
GOODBYE BLUE MONDAY
Tattoos on the wandering man
Oriental chimes and the people who own them
Bus stop regulars
Vines overtaking power lines
The hypnogogic state
Strawberry light softening
The mind
Sister Ray LOUDLY PROCLAIMING
doitdoitdoitdoit
Passing the graffiti n Pluto neon
Halal wide awake another Saturday
Where's the Karaoke
Flashing by here
Those who find comfort in a bridal scavenger hunt
Or expensive beer
And here comes the hooded clown
Clamoring about his favorite
Loudspeaker
Telling me my time is soon and the noise
Drowns out the drowsy bliss
After hour spirits the perfect time for
Writing and trying to read distant Chinese
Indecision on the tip of the tongue
"NOW WHO IS THAT KNOCKING
ON THE CHAMBER DOOR?
COULD IT BE THE POLICE?"

I'm completely off the topic
And into Apartment lobby photosets
Low battery phone calls
Confessions
Nauseated reverb
Trying to see the attachment people got with bingo halls
And moving companies
Ah no luck again
Eve is at it with her showtunes
Halfway methodology
Triage
Paisley headbands left
Distraught on the quivering
Heater
Dwindling sunsets
We're truly disciples of the moon spirit which grants us more energy
(This is according to a drunk I met one night)
Or ***** old men
When the horizon is engulfed with
A winking cinder
Suitcase at the door
Last time
First time
Magician never reveals his fetishes
(They all have to do with bags under your eyes)
Employment office dramas of my friend the one who blinded a social worker
And the one who blamed Islam
And the one whos philosophy entirely consisted of Spooky Action at a
                                            DISTANCE
Parisian riots
Queer youth
Didn't make the team! Jester
'cross the hall who's beard suggests
Ishmeal n car battery n expired vegetables n rain which crosses the line n
***** cranberry n
Poorly fitted suits n
Harsh pigment n incense shops n
Bocca     secret towns
With churches more beautiful than any you'd find in your own city
n the cultural market
Xylophone ear to ear
Soul cleansing starting at only
$89 (with a 6 month guarantee)
Sophie's birthday and her picnic at Victory Park
The nearby bums trying to sell tea mugs and
Loose wires beside gated convenience stores
I'm an Island away attempting a poem
And never bought a scratch n win
Or heard the same song more than seven times in a row or been in a column
Or escaped the washhouse
Invested in a birdcage for next year
Been to a palm reading
Visited Oasis
Smoked salmon
Told anyone else about Montana
Screamed the things I'd like to scream
** Word of the day
Or kissed a lunatic or swallowed the corpse of yesterday
I keep her on my neck until
I'm too anxious to let go
Counting streetlights
Jeans worn in and faded to be sent off to
A lonely caffeine addict
Christmas Eve I'll be reading a postcard from San Francisco
Asking the same questions
My imagination is made of a different material than last week
Now it's the same color as your hair
HEY that's a good pickup line to use in the heart of the Canadian Embassy
Drinking discarded music resembling a sweater you may have said YES to if it wasn't so unsure of itself
And now Mr. Acker Bilk ascends thru the window of an August home
Like a lazy hornet
I'm still lost without identification
Or a nice belt
As happens when one uses a quality item too casually
How did uphill suddenly seem so downhill?
I'll claim a waterfall
For SALE that inevitable Indonesia
Greyhound O another greyhound O another greyhound
I'm fretting too much about not enough
Delayed the Airport and the yellow question

????

II

What if I knew how to read the curb?
Or translate drunken droll
What if I was never tired again and could
REALLY do anything I set my mind to?
What if I was the first cigarette that cured cancer instead of caused it?
What if I could end superstition
And walk underneath any ladder I wanted?
What if I could make it with a young Audrey Hepburn!?
What if I stopped pretending to be a microphone and got on with "it"
What if the grocery store closed later
And I opened earlier?
What if parking lots werent so sad
All the time?
What if gravity simply had enough of exotic birds and specifics?
What if we stopped trying to recreate what is truly lost?
What if foreign children embraced
Wasting time instead of
Midnight starry bicycles
And the antics of a monk
Disguised as a romantic?

There are those that worship God
And those who worship the Sun
And those who worship nothing at all
But I suppose on the last bus
We're all the same exhausted
Voice who can't wait for next pay day
What is an empty bank?
Or authenticity
What is there to prove anymore?
I hope I don't die tonight and regret
Being impulsive for once
You're a smart shadow
And a dull character
Pushing the last of the daisies
Get the lamp to turn on again
Give the pavement something to look forward to with your walk
Be consistent in being inconsistent
If there's a word there's a ***** and a poem for it!
We all oughta worship
Nothing at all except
Clarity
Compassion with ones neighbor who either forgot the pay the electricity bill or couldn't afford to
We're a swimmin

this table in the
shade
these commune hippies
in the river
I wrote a poem
in my sleep
I looked at the mountains
and thought
rain
staccato
metronome
irrigation
and caps
melting
but enough of this
nature
let’s go back
to the concrete
mouth
where we walk
through the city
full of cake
bloated like
balloons
but rolling
because
cake doesn’t make
you float
no
cake only makes you
fat
the conversation turns
to the stench
there’s something dying
in the air
we leave
and roll joints
spot magnums
on tree branches
and think
only monkeys ****
in trees
and we would never
want to see
monkey ***
and ******?
no
we’d never try it
and the homeless man next to us
puts his spoon
away
but god
why do we sleep
when we just wake up?
why do we sleep
to dream
such ******-up
things
where celebrities
feed us salami in
back alleyways
and we see our mother
pooping on
world maps?
time rips of
lyrical grass
conductive smile
soap bubbles
these beautiful
dreamtime mornings
spent thinking of you
in playhouse mountains
like a child
you smile
like a friend
I offer you my hand
and we walk
to the white
together
bill withers is there
he is singing
in his yellow
turtleneck

Reality is the stage upon which I play the fool & lover.
Delusion is the Act, not knowing one from the other.
The Past, a script,
Memorized to poison the mind.
Hope, a costume,
Worn to keep the heart blind.
Falling into bed,
the curtain raises from the ground.
Quiet whispers in my ear,
house music thrashes loud!
I Perform with passion,
putting faith in my troupe.
Convincing the audience
My story is true.
Scene to scene,
They see no flaw.
Each song & dance
Inspires awe.
In the end my cheeks, they shine,
like all the roses that will fall.
My eyes stay glamoured
with the curtain call.
The lights come up,
The morning sun,
They cheer, they kiss.
But the show is done,
they have had their fun.
It was pleasure, it was bliss.
Take a bow.
I played the Lover for a night.
I am the Fool now.
Exit stage right.

wanna play house in my playhouse?
love up on my body,
you and me only.
we'd give that tree kingdom
a run for it's money.
i don't need to plant any roots
with you or any being.
I just wanna play house
in my playhouse.

I act
So I can release my pain
Without anyone knowing its mine

Because you pretended
to like my playhouse.
I tried to lock you in
but my three year old body
could not brace
you back enough
to make you stay.

Because you kept secrets
in your suitcase
during work trips.
And I wanted to know
what you kept in there.
So I listened
behind closed doors.

I would graze my hands
over your face;
prickly and the color
of pumpkins.
And I longed for you
to stay home this time.
Why would you need
to go to work
when it rained?

Because you took the chair
we used to sit on
when we played
with cow puppets.

I still have one.

Because you were my dad,
and I was your first child.

You showed up late
to your mother's funeral.
All because my stepmother
was too busy
mourning the loss
of her iced coffee.

That's not the father
that I used to try and lock
in my playhouse.

Because you never
called me back
when i apologized
for asking too much.

Because you
left
lied
cheated
manipulated
and lost your daughter.

But still
I can't
bring myself
to say
it was your fault.

Maybe it was your brain tumor
slowly ******* away
at your morality.
Maybe it was my
inability to cope
with catastrophe
as a child.
Maybe it
was too much
to be caught
in a place
you never wanted to be in.

Or maybe it's just life.

it's been a while since I've been up here
at least a year
sitting on the textured, plastic roof
of a child's playhouse
it resides permanently in my yard
despite having been outgrown long ago
outgrown like the flowers and weeds
that surround it
the flowers and weeds that are unkempt
like one's hair on a windy day
they blow in the wind now
and hit my feet
to my surprise,
when the flowers touch my toes
tiny white petals
drift into the air
showering my bare feet
with small snow-like specks
slowly, I shake my feet
and then kick the flowers
I laugh as the Ivory petals
descend into the air
and kick again
and again
and again
the flowers are almost bare now
and my time here is spent
I look out over the long grass of my lawn
it too is uncared for,
in the summer the owners of it
are never there to tend it
and in the winter
it dies anyway
a jungle of a backyard
swept by a summer breeze
leaves me feeling just a bit freer

About me young careless feet
Linger along the garish street;
Above, a hundred shouting signs
Shed down their bright fantastic glow
Upon the merry crowd and lines
Of moving carriages below.
Oh wonderful is Broadway -- only
My heart, my heart is lonely.

Desire naked, linked with Passion,
Goes trutting by in brazen fashion;
From playhouse, cabaret and inn
The rainbow lights of Broadway blaze
All gay without, all glad within;
As in a dream I stand and gaze
At Broadway, shining Broadway -- only
My heart, my heart is lonely.

We lie amidst Ripe mountain herbs,
The nightingale has just begun its summer trill,
This hymn for golden vocal cords
Composed no owner of a writing quill

So sweet were melodies produced
That I mistook the front row lady’s cheap perfume
For blossoms, above which haunting hornets mused;
For an aroma of our Shakespeare love in bloom.

The serenading cardboard creatures –
Those thieve their voice from birds with no address.
Meanwhile a glass raised in a playhouse features
But colored water, as red as gipsy’s dress.

When the last spectator goes,
Having not found at least one genuine sun,
As actors, we recede into descending roles;
Electric blood in lamps’ capillaries feels numb.  

A lovely ladybug, I doubt, I will ever catch,
A lifelike flower, dipped in a painting fusion:
All this, fine artists tenderly attach  
To lifeless decorations, for aid they do us in a willful staged illusion.

Three burnt sienna pearls run down your spine
Yet after a big round of applause
These jewels are no longer signs of the divine,
But witches’ marks or, rather, unalluring flaws.

After the play I went to buy a notebook from my shopping list
To store the overgrowing verses, such as these;
A sheet of paper guarantees
To treat them like extinguishing bees

Cashiers ****** the change into my hand,
You purchased hothouse roses with;
And up those pretty useless beauties stand
In someone’s vase, whose name remains a myth.

They give me back those polished dimes
You traded for a pair of shoes.
I’ve seen you marshal through onstage lifetimes,
Yet to disclose personas’ traces the theater walls refuse.

Your chocolate hair has just fallen from the hairdresser’s hand,–
That’s how I know the summer’s coming to a bitter end.

The sun is a dancer and I'm the stage

I'd forgotten how good it feels to let the sun kiss my skin
Butterfly rays fluttering around me
My entire body
Being dead isn't so bad now that I feel good
Twinkling eyes are mine because its so bright
I'm in love with the warmth of the substance around me
It feels like water and sand mixed up into grass
I'm buried in the land by the beaches
Married to the heat energy
I can see it now dancing across my glass body
Since I'm no longer real I'd like to believe I'm a doll
And the dirt is my playhouse
Everyone said it was gonna be cold like the snow where we made angels but I'm not so sure angels are supposed to be frozen
I'd like to say goodnight because I could fall asleep in the comfort of the sun but I guess I'll say good morning instead

This isn't home to us, just an illusion thereof.
An illusion we love to play in,
eat in, sleep in.
And when it rains, it doesn't pour;
it is but ever dry.
When it's dry, all I do is die.
I die. I die. I die.
Only to live tomorrow and yet again
play, eat and sleep.
This isn't love, just an illusion thereof.
An illusion we love to pour in, die in
and live in again.

i.
unfiltered asiatic plaything seeks
hypoactive cradle technocrat
evicting meaningful poach,
mendacious transcripts of
past events found in his
memoryless playhouse.
poplar crowd scribbles observations
outbound punch of laughter
sighs to the scrambled, ethnic
postgrad nation.
microfiche telegram exploits
meaning to deeper courtesies
current surrendered upon
entry.

ii.
psychotropic sustenance
fizz thru ***** vein corridor
secret mission lifestyle
learning fast in enormous packs of
tiny lies.
spew logic chagrin mediated
bloodstain; cerebus twitching
outside of beingself.

iii.
heart ceases,
sacred whitepaint moans.
o infidel,
strike thrice; a chord
binding us- nasty, *****
beads bleeding rich.
cloaked bushes tasting,
hisses cured human oaks;
tapered horns that sob,
casting waved heels.

iv.
dawn fallen, only concrete
possible now. separated by
thousands of what is not,
shocks disintricate; undwindling
patriots mailing lessness,
laughter sounds fetching
offband pitch.

at two years old,
your curious hands
happened upon a bottle of
flea medicine
that lay waiting on the counter.
your mother was absent as usual,
off on an errand,
or walking the dog.
unwatched,
your enterprising fingers
eased the lid from the container,
and you poured the sweet-smelling
liquid down your throat.
the world was still so new to you,
and it seemed to be made for tasting.
who could blame a child
with a thirst for more than
mushy peas and applesauce?
two days later
they released you from the hospital,
your stomach pumped dry.

when you were six,
idly exploring the woods of your mother’s
sprawling estate,
you paused a moment from imagining
faerie queens flitting about in the greenery
to take rest on a log,
your undiscerning eye not betraying
its secret: within it was a nest
of wasps,
and thinking they were faeries
you dared not move as they
rose in a cloud above your head
and overtook you,
leaving your body peppered with
painful angry sores.
you fell to the ground.
a hired man,
strong and tall as the oak trees,
saw your quick descent and
ventured after you,
made a hammock of his arms
to bear you like a fallen soldier
back to your mother’s house,
his tough sun-leathered skin
immune to the assaults of the
faerie battalion.

at eight,
playing in the small child-sized house
in your aunt’s garden,
you sought to make stained glass
from the broken shards of the playhouse window.
having no tool at hand,
what better way to
shatter the clear, flat plane
than with your fist?
before reason could take hold of you,
you drove your hand
through the glass,
and the raw edges cut deep into your veins.
blood flowed in rivers
from your wrist.
your aunt, ever watchful,
rushed from the house to
stop your body’s catharsis
with a dishcloth.
the jagged unpainted shards
lay forgotten on the ground.

In the window of the pet shop
four small faces, lost.
Their owners, sick with worry,
want them found at any cost.

A quad of treasured family pets
roaming wild and free,
unmindful of the panic
they’re causing back in Leigh.

A sausage dog called Mini,
sleek and burnished dark.
She’s likely got a little voice
that is more squeak than bark.

Tinks: a sturdy Staffie,
with a plea on Facebook
praying for his safe return
his people beg you “have a look”

“in your sheds and garages,
or in the kids' playhouse.
You never know who could be there
‘cos he’s quiet as a mouse”.

A grumpy Border Terrier,
Underbitten, rough of coat
“Bill: a much loved dog, we miss him”
in shaky letters wrote.

And, last of all, would you believe
Someone’s lost their tortoise!
He’s been in the family since ‘77
(let’s hope he isn’t corpus).

For pets are no mere mortals,
nor fallible as we.
They’re up there on a pedestal,
in anthropomorphic fantasy.

Then one day they disappear,
our soppy hearts turn wretched.
No stick to throw, and if we did
none to go and fetch it.

On centre stage of family life
entangled in our tribe.
No separateness of species,
always by our side.

So if you’re there, or round about
And you should chance to see
Mini, Tinks or Billy
or a tortoise in his mid-thirties.

Tell the little pet shop -
it’s better late than never -
to mend an aching, wretched heart
who thought their best friend gone forever.

To the Williamson Brothers

High noon. White sun flashes on the Michigan Avenue
     asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr of motors.
     Women trapsing along in flimsy clothes catching
     play of sun-fire to their skin and eyes.

Inside the playhouse are movies from under the sea.
     From the heat of pavements and the dust of sidewalks,
     passers-by go in a breath to be witnesses of
     large cool sponges, large cool fishes, large cool valleys
     and ridges of coral spread silent in the soak of
     the ocean floor thousands of years.

A naked swimmer dives. A knife in his right hand
     shoots a streak at the throat of a shark. The tail
     of the shark lashes. One swing would **** the swimmer...
     Soon the knife goes into the soft under-
     neck of the veering fish... Its mouthful of teeth,
     each tooth a dagger itself, set row on row, glistens
     when the shuddering, yawning cadaver is hauled up
     by the brothers of the swimmer.

Outside in the street is the murmur and singing of life
     in the sun--horses, motors, women trapsing along
     in flimsy clothes, play of sun-fire in their blood.

I was a touch-me-not before you broke my heart
living in a child’s playhouse

now I say, “touch me please”
it is the demons that make angels exist

some girls say that sadness makes you feel dead
you made me become alive

you cried when my hair covered my eyes
so my sadness carried it away, it

uncoiled
a heartbeat per ounce I love your ****

but still we have conversations about where you
want to be buried

                              when you die.

The edges of one body blending into the bones of another

spreading like fire on a terrace of thatched roof houses

we are learning how to count in twos, in pairs

we are moulding into the shape
of a house where children run, barefoot

we are learning how to build ourselves out of ashes and fractions

out of crumbling teeth and rotten mouth kisses,

halitosis

they let their sticky humid hands
hold my glitching hologram body
against the scratchy playhouse
walls and drag their clammy
claws where no child should
think to rub all the while
whispering into my vacant ears
how they would beat me and
bite me and cut me and kick me
if anyone were to ever find out
our little game as tapeworm
tears sludged from my sickly
sweet rotting eyesockets and
down my shiny shaking dust
stained cheeks silently over my
cold and closing throat and
when my dad finally ripped the
splintering wooden door across
the sandy shifting floor i was so
pale pink blue i could have been
six hours dead save for my
fracturing porcelain and
plexiglass heart destructive and
bashing and shattering itself
through my frail and brittle
crumbling ribcage whispering to
me how badly my dad would
scream at me for the way we
were playing

In my pocket
Old and wore out
A symbol of every color I felt
This old paint brush
Has seen miracles
Made many more
Revived old houses
Brought life to a dying kids eyes
As she watched her playhouse
Become healthier then her
This old paint brush
Painted a future for me
In every smile of every homeowner
Brought beauty where darkness resided
Yet I never tried to let it
Bring colors into my heart
Bristles are missing
Brass is dented and caked over
Handle barely holding on
But its my brush
My favorite brush
The only brush I'll ever use
Because its the brush
That painted more miracles
Then Jesus performed

Magic Marker Mistakes.
Hop-Scotch Hurts.
Tick-Tack-Toe Troubles.

In the world of the shrewd there was the land of innocence.

Candy Heart Cares.
Playhouse Problems.
Silly String Scars

But the young grow and the innocence dies.
What we had was just a chalk outline of love that washed away with the rain.

For as the curtain rises,
So too the curtain falls,
No accolades, no entourage,
No 'Brava!', no applause.

An unrehearsed performance,
By a monodramatist,
A solo show, a pantomime,
An improvised burlesque.

Critics stand in groups debating,
The value of my work,
They gossip in the aisles,
The playhouse now a kirk.

My eulogy their invention,
My obituary the prize,
The best review I've ever had,
A mix of humour and soft lies.

I have played the loving daughter,
The honest aunt *****,
The independent sister,
The true and loyal friend.

The sympathetic neighbour,
I have played the errant niece,
The mentor, guide, and confidant,
The ***** and the tease.

In truth, I am a diva,
Living mostly in her head,
But this remains unmentioned,
In a tribute to the dead.

Once rose bouquets beribboned,
From the greatest and the good,
Now a solitary arrangement,
On a coffin made of wood.

For as the curtain rises,
So too the curtain falls,
No accolades, no entourage,
No garlands, no applause.

But wait, I see my error,
As indeed these things exist,
But not for me to comment on,
Nor as I would have wished.

For my aspect is fair frozen,
I cannot turn the page,
My performance has now ended,
And I have left the stage.

i hear the voice in whispers...

whispers...whispers...

under the willow tree

the voice says nasty things

***** words

to keep me listening

i hear it by the river

over rock and into splash

slash your wrists, sister

they'll never take you back

i run to my old playhouse

under the old oak floor

the whispers turn to hisses

i can bare it no more

i take the razor and cut so deep

the blood is black and sprays

now maybe at last

the whispers will go away

around here, you either go to bed early, drink yourself silly,
or read Kant... to be honest i still imagine
Kant like René Magritte - suited
and booted for the "next best thing",
not scruffy like Diogenes or Socrates,
the epitome of civilisation: a well dressed man,
or simply conveniently blending in,
like me wearing tracksuit "trousers" and
a t-shirt, the same thing, over and over
again, for god knows how long...
oh i have a wardrobe, i just chose
to have the feline tastes in the mundane -
why bother? it's a simple question worthy of
a creaking table - why bother?
the pride of the English resides in having
a mortgage rather than a wife - it's all
a frenzy after that contract is signed,
they're all hip-hip-where's-the-*******-hooray!
basically, if i know, Putin knows,
Kant was accused as "being" a Prussian spy, i get
the jokes, hence i execute, and think you out
into thinking i'm irrational due to chickenpox
(even though i've had a vaccination),
no, please, you invented the clockwise route of
traffic and the Shanghai roundabout, you first...
no, seriously, i was just kidding and then you
take me all serious i have to give a Kamikaze
salute, death to us all, and none shall return...
imagine Jesus (big up the Bible Belt States!)
and his rejection of doctrine on the third day,
the whole thing about body resurrected /
resuscitated... am i in heaven? am i in hell?
i don't know! resurrection of the body happened as
it happened - me? personally? i imagine heaven
a place where you don't ****, eat, or feel -
hell where you do each and etc. to excess,
******* is like having **** *** - heaven you just
float about, Hades' lava lamp airy fairy...
i'm writing this because my mortality expired,
i'm angry like a teenager and a fusilier convoy
target for Islamic terrorism...
as you know, within a poet many voices speak,
in polite society the practice of poetry is
best described as schizophrenia -
a polite society, a polite society, a politeness,
doesn't ring the bell that adjective -
since you vote in dichotomy versions of unity -
dichotomic (underlined), a word you should know well -
oh now a theory above a non-approval of
a word? how eloquent... we can have dual
and the self- as in -containment
but we can't seem to have the dicho... ****'s sake 2,
antidote of pre-Christian Greek endeavours
focused on the number 2,
sign your name on the petition to obstruct
any synonymous activity -
post-and-inc.-Christianity Greek endeavours lost
itself into abstracting the no. 3
(prior to β-reduction-ism - i.e. because -
into γ-reduction-ism, i.e. cause) -
well, if there ain't no bench and no one to speak to,
you're bound to find fascinations in symbols
to the outreaching mentions of meaning,
i.e. insinuation - hence what psychiatrists have done
all along in bringing Freddy Kruger and the unconscious,
enveloped, and as antidote, insinuation:
collective unconscious / common sense = intuition.
i know this is abstract, i know the grammatical words missing
to write an essay, it's a poem,
look at it as if all the ******* of the current
Tate Modern exhibition put together - why else?
why take an umbrella out when it's raining
instead of thinking of yourself as sugar?
under my skin? people tend to be tattoos under your skin,
you release them by etching out fingerprints of
their genitalia onto the world, nothing more,
the ***** to guillotine the father, or mother -
should have worked on it, the carpet in the kitchen
as an escape route to explore America? the ***** to guillotine
that crap... the cat playhouse in the living room?
should have guillotined that... why not **** them off
before all that "adventurous horizons" crap of Ms. Caterpillar
turned actress, formerly known as Mr. Model
with a burp and get it away and done with?
well... i was born in a bigger ****-hole than this,
to me Romford, Essex, is like mother-******* Hollywood...
oh ****... i think i just shoved my ball-sack into fresh cement...
heave! heave! heave! n'ah, that ****'s stuck...
i think i'll compass the **** out of all Irish Catholics
along the way to the Hammadi Library; duh, nimwit!
(and a) shotgun! me get ******* first(!)
on our way into a Brighton pier photo-cubicle to get a passport
photograph for flight MS804...


                                                      ­     wankers.

I built the playhouse
To withstand
The seige of time.
Like Hadrian,
I dismayed the border people.
Starlight shone through
Crescent moons
Like the Ishtar Gate of Babylon.
Children shrieked and wailed
Against those walls
As nomads in northern China,
Or Philistines in Jeruselum.
But time is a formidable outsider,
And my small walls would tumble
To the blasts of tempus trumpets.
My hand runs lovingly across
Your names on those
Memorial Walls.

The first day
God came face to face

Spring, in front of the tree
That had forgotten roots and leaves

The slender note of complaint
Made to its friends
By the cloud that got lost

The goddess’ voice
Unheard by any but water

The flower garden  
In front of which
Grass grows with abandon

The darkened house
With cowdung – smeared floor

A cluster of moments
Of butterflies cavorting in the rain

The playhouse
Made of the wings of fireflies and moths

The seaside
Where camels enjoy the breeze

The forgotten oyster
The fry left
Under the sand

The praying hands
Of date palms
Which look upon earth from above

The wedding night
Inside the elephant shelter

Where ants frolic

A pinch of beaten rice,
Cooked, using only the twigs the pigeons bring

The anthology of words
Read and re-read
In a hand-written letter

The translation of the moment
God couldn’t quite get

what could it have been?

Covered  daughter with kisses..
She wept, alarmed

I heard the voice of God telling daughter,
” I didn’t understand anything either!”

What is life?
What is death?

What is waste?
What is purpose?

What is good?
What is evil?

What is?

All different, yet all one.
Nihilistic ambiguity,
What is?

If you have thought the thoughts,
You might be like me- trapped.
What is?

Is our purpose to be successful?
To leave something behind?
To be remembered?
To be a conqueror and a Man of Free Will?
Or are we just a doll of rag in Fate's playhouse?

What is life without death?
What is good without evil?
What is pleasure without suffering?
Are they not equals?

Such is life in her horrific beauty,
Deceptively, yet excitingly... ambiguous.

What is Churchill without ******?
What is Richard without Saladin?
What is humanitarianism without dehumanization?
Are they not both equally powerful?
However, are they also not both one?

What is the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter?
One is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do not believe in,
While the other is someone who wrecks havoc for something that you do believe in.
Wait...

What is justice and what is tyranny?
What is moral and what is immoral?
Well...
The true question is, to whom is it a moral law and to whom is it an immoral law?

That is when you realize, that everything is one.

Truths become lies,
Lies become truths,
Good become evil,
Evil become good,
Hate become love,
Love become hate,
Justice become unjust,
Injustice become just.

Meaningful becomes meaningless,
As a couple's carnation is destined to wither and turn to dust.

Yet, in it's beauty, both sarcastic and cruel,
The meaningless becomes meaningful.
Being trapped sets you free.

And that is when you realize,
Life is not about being told what is right or wrong.
Life is not about leading the way,
Nor is it about following a person.
It is not about following a code,
A tradition, or a set path.

What is, becomes up to you.
What you believe in,
What is just,
What is moral,
Is something only you can tell yourself.

You may learn from others.
However, nobody reads the same sentence the same way.
And even on the same roads nobody has the same journey.

There is no purpose to anything,
There is no good,
There is no free will,
There is no fate,
There is no truth,
Nor is there a lie.
Everything is meaningless...

All meaningless... until, you breathe meaning into them.

In a way, you are just a passing moment in this Universe.
A tock on a ticking clock.
A small ant in the cosmic world.
A weakling whose death day is already marked on the calender.

Yet, until that moment, and until that day comes.
Without you, the Universe has no meaning.
Without you, there are no truths, no morals, no goals, and no purpose.

For you breathe purpose into this world,
As you write your infinite story into this leather bound diary of life.

I remember the preschool playhouse
I remember the elementary school boys
I remember not before
I remember not after
I remember restraining hands
lifting skirts, threats, touching,
                                                                                                                                                   **screaming

It is difficult to ignore
the run-down playhouse.

The ivy running
up the sides.

It has belonged to spiders
for seven years,

the yellow paint is
chipping, you cannot see

the ladder inside, how tiny feet
clambered up the wooden rungs,

the windows clouded over
with dust.

And I start shaking,
only a child could understand

longing like this,
I've never been sheltered

like they've sheltered me
for all these years.

In the absence
of childhood memories,

this house is how I know
I was loved.

a hand
a hello
an embrace
What flesh do you hold
Who does it belong
to

i feel as a doll
in its playhouse
Trudging between plastic
bright, wallpaper rooms
Daises and lavish paisley
peeling

Will I ever trust the very heart
on my sleeve
let alone place it
in your hands
Meaning is like words
It is claimed, they are said
Truth remains elusive
from reality

As children in my playhouse,
You climbed and crawled around me.
I did not retain much
Except your joyful,
Distant
Playing.

I remember your great swing set.
You bring to mind my violin.
Regardless of few memories,
You were wildly
Within.

My small hands gripped toys.
Yours pushed off floor and wall.
I was invisible to you then
And your budding
Attention span.

Your eyes darted to and fro
And curls bounced up and down.
Nothing held your attention long
Except your untamed
Singsong.

Fast-forward to the present,
Over a decade later.
We’re laughing uncontrollably,
Dancing through
Hose water.

I was scrubbing my car’s hood.
You were rinsing the passenger door,
Both of us
Occupied
As we’d been
Before.

Your chin rose from the stream.
My arm circles slowed.
Our eyes locked,
And time stood still,
Child’s play
Revoked.

I was nothing to you,
Then I disappeared.
Years brought us maturity.
And reconnection,
Love.