AT NIGHT, THIS PLACE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
A STRANGE COMFORT FOR THE PENSIVE,
FOLLY FOR THE HAUNTED.
YOUR NAME
IS ETCHED AT THE BACK
OF MY HEAD,
HIDDEN, IN A GRID,
WHERE MIERZWIAK WOULDN’T
FIND YOU.
AT NIGHT, ATENEO AVENUE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
I REMEMBER:
"THIS IS WHERE I SAW YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME."
I FLICK MY CIGARETTE AND MAKE UP
A GOODBYE,
LIKE JOEL TO CLEMENTINE,
AND HEAD BACK
TO WHERE
THESE YELLOW LIGHTS
CAN’T FIND ME.
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
From an abandoned blog
Linked to a forgotten email account
I remembered abandoned emotions
I'm not sure I ever forgot.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
I shook you gently, wake up, I was hungry again.
I said I was eating for two, you obliged and got
up from your side of the bed.
We had slept early that night, the neighborhood
was still up when we woke. We walked, the air
whiffed of the usual street fare over hot coals.
I asked, if it was alright to eat at this time of the night.
Thinking you’d object, I pointed out,
I was eating for two and you smiled a bit.
I was eating for a child you said we couldn’t keep.
Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 9:33 AM UTC
If after afterall,
I'd still take a stab at writing about you,
then I guess nothing has changed
from that psychedelic view.
It's barely noon and I feel that one
February where we stopped seeing that
view, a scenery so changed by oceans
and timezones and the ever changing me
and you.
After afterall,
these little peace signs still hang
around from my neck, then I guess it's
the same as wearing my heart on my
sleeve, and your name's still on it.
Reader, do not listen to William Fitszimmons on a Thursday, when you're on a deadline.
Feb 25, 2011
Feb 25, 2011 at 4:45 AM UTC
it's always dark blue around you,
but i like it,
especially when you're curled up
in the corner, trying to be awake
as i blabber incessantly.
it's pitch black, i figured,
when you pull up that drawbridge
just when i have gotten past the moat,
i don't like it when it's
pitch black, like your scary beautiful
scuba dive.
because i can't swim.
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 11:52 PM UTC
i look at you
and a taste in my mouth
tells me,
"i like what i see."
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 11:46 PM UTC
Revised version of a note that I was able to write after sharing beer with a friend and learning about her story. The topic came up because U2's With or Without You started showing on Channel V and she told us the song was playing when they were, finally, going their separate ways.
This note is for 9 years, for a marriage then for zilch, and for anyone who has lost a marriage.
And to you, my friend: life is still good.
Nothing could have been
more apt
than Bono singing who
he couldn't live with,
or without.
After domestic trials
and errors, we
were telling each other,
that hereafter
I shouldn't live with
or without you either.
Nine, it's a magic number,
to count the years we had been
together.
Two, was you and me,
reduced
to me and she.
We were,
just you and I,
bound
by papers signed.
We share,
a last name I
can no longer make use of.
Feb 24, 2011
Feb 24, 2011 at 11:43 PM UTC
He's a cynic,
she's a motley fool
they go through time;
witty, in opposite directions
Together they make up
the string of Time:
everlasting, effervescing,
shimmering a long a line.
In contrast they balance
In not like features they oppose
Uneducated or wise,
each to the same degree.
They balance like 6 and 9,
fitting like
two paisleys
in the same sphere
Likewise they despise and love:
in the same degree, at the same time
Everlasting, effervescing,
shimmering a long a line.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC
The water is black
late night of a new moon.
I dive into it
swim underwater
away from the fire
and drunken noise
my heart beating hard
at odds
with the cold silence.
I scream ---
mostly bubbles
and a mouthful of salt
I gag and surface.
"Open your eyes underwater!"
you scream from the shore
"There's phosphorescence!"
I open them for the first time
in salt water
and see the algae lit
a tunnel curved in my hands
I do a somersault
then float
knees pressed to chest
blowing light bubbles.
I get back
no towel, sand in my pants
huddled by the fire
I press you close,
But your head is
bent, away
"I can't love you"
you mumble to my chest
squeezing harder.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 10:16 PM UTC
All of a sudden I can no longer write
I’ve lost a tone, an evil glint in the eye
Lost the snicker of a sardonic, and instead found a
Muffler for madcap laughs.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 10:12 PM UTC