Pantoum I - Non-Rhyming

I took my diamond to the pawn shop
but that didn't make it junk@
though I didn't get much money for it
just enough to buy a meal

what makes something junk
when you come right down to it
if it buys you a meal
and can satisfy a need

when you come right down to it
what value can we give
to satisfy a need
when we swallow down our pride

what value is there really
in any things we have
if they swallow up our pride
like useless diamonds pawned
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Pantoum II - Rhyming

I took my diamond to the pawn shop
but that didn't make it junk@
didn't get much for it
value, it seems, had shrunk

pawning doesn't make it junk
if it satisfies a need
even with its value shrunk
pawned diamonds make you free

slate sleepy streets wet
you make like a wizard
funny feelings from your fairy dust

is the wild prospect of
misinterpretations making you hard
for me like your fear of my flirt

gets me turned on?
these warm shadows sail
dumb conversations at a coffee shop
the core of you is warm and i am cold

My mother never forgave my father
for killing himself,
especially at such an awkward time
and in a public park,
that spring
when I was waiting to be born.
She locked his name
in her deepest cabinet
and would not let him out,
though I could hear him thumping.
When I came down from the attic
with the pastel portrait in my hand
of a long-lipped stranger
with a brave moustache
and deep brown level eyes,
she ripped it into shreds
without a single word
and slapped me hard.
In my sixty-fourth year
I can feel my cheek
still burning

That late hour after school
When all is mellow and gentle
The quiet light licks the sides of things
Making pale shadows as we begin.
Unroll the mackintosh and onto
The ground put out our frugal
Tea that we may eat after
Climbing the trees.

For these times are long past
But to see all the leaves
And stones in the dry earth
And feel that warmth of you
Our mum and the courage
She had. For that walk
Was not an easy trek when tired
And your eyes only wanting
A sigh as we both played
It was such as is given
By a poor man.


Love Mary





Love Mary x

Let me tell you a secret of mine
I think it’s time
That everyone knows
How broken I am
Because no one knows
How much my heart is shattered
No one knows
That my fate may be death
And I don’t know if that’s my happy ending or not
I miss my old self so much
That sometimes it’s hard to remember why I changed in the first place
And I want to go back
But I don’t know if I could go back
I don’t know if I want to go back
I was shy and fragile back then
I’m shy fragile and bit less of a crybaby now
It’s just that no one knows
That I still cry at night
And I wish I could die
And that I’ve wanted to place the razor to my wrist so many times
No one knows
That I miss me
I miss me so much
I want to be me again
But I don’t know how
I don’t know how
I don’t know how
I-
Maybe I shouldn’t try at all
I guess I’ll pretend to be okay

I would write you a poem
     about the stars and the moon
I would write you a poem
     about me dying soon.
I would write you a poem
     about my love everlasting
I would write you a poem
     about cymbals crashing.
I would write you a poem
     about how I want you so
but I can't write you a poem
     when you don't let me grow.