out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes ***
writes songs and stories
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the *** is just as good or better.
it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work ...
it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking
listening to the waves ...

I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...
out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another
it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in
the dark.

I’m sitting in my car
Chain smoking,
It’s raining hard,
Rivers run through
The side walk
Making it a little cleaner,
Waterfalls rush down
The roof tiles,
The sound of it
hitting the ground
As thought inducing
As the nicotine
My body keeps
Asking for.

Thoughts of Her
Paint me a pretty picture.

She loved my writing,
She read all of it,
The love I had for Her
Could be felt
Through the screen,
Through the paper,
Even Through my lips
Whenever I had the courage
To tell Her.

I could see it in Her skin,
My words marching
With bayonets and
Strikingly bright
Torches that lit up
The whole room,
My hands rightfully  
Followed,
Climbing up Her legs,
Up and down Her hips,
Moving up Her back.

In days like these
The rain would be
The least of our
Problems.

It would be how much
I wanted Her..

And how much
She wanted me.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

I will send flowers
or a plane
if that’s what it takes
just come home
for another minute

I see myself
Tumbling down
The hill once more,
The grass scratches
My back and arms
rocks cover themselves
As I come rolling
Past them,
Hitting every last one,
I cry and plead
for forgiveness,
I ask god for time
And time again
I ask for a glimpse
Of the garden
On the other side,
I bury my nails
Into the skin of the earth
I crawl past the rain,
I crawl past the heat,
The undying days
And remorseful nights,
my heart starts to pound
As the smell of jasmines
Mists down the peak,
The ground crumbles.
And I see myself
tumbling down
To silence once again.

Can I call?
I want to listen
To you sing
What you've
done lately,
Hear you crack
Open a can
Of laughter
That has been
Saved up
In the attic
For the past
Few months.
Rations you
Had saved
Up for a
Better day,
I want to
Be quiet
With you.
And hear
You say
That everything
Will be okay.

In the quiet of night,
I’ll sit near the amber
Scented candle,
I’ll stretch my hand
Over the flame that
Sits on top like a bee
Peacefully sleeping
On the petal of
A sunflower,
I’ll stir it up,
Let it sting
Until the night
Not so quiet anymore
Blows out the flame,
Seeing it dance before
It becomes absence
And pollen.