Reproaching, leaning against my attention
Her cupped body, my eyes trickle down her
Luminous hair, jealous dress against her earthenware, earnest skin
Framing what she knows like the book in her hand, her palm
Eagerly charitable, arms
Unconcerned, unlike eyes
Describing tempests I only assume she has
Found within, espoused without, our gorse lining
The blooming of social trials
And her look, glance, flitted worry
Grey eyes not surrendering the reflection
That's not there
Luminous, grotto ragazza
Is what I see, what I see

And to you, the hermit
I give the world
Such is your domain
And your quality

"That's outrageous!" He said.
"You're a ******* fool" I muttered.
That's pennies on the dream.
If you think that the four dollars
   And 29 cents is for a piece of plastic with some ink and a ballpoint then you're probably just making a grocery list.
A pen  is not for scribbling to do lists.
There is an app for that.

A pen is for unlocking dreams and opening windows.
It's for recording the nightmares and victories of a life worth living.
If you don't have PTSD from one thing or another by 28, then you aren't living right.

"You're a madman" he chuckled.
Maybe so.
But I think the price is worth it.

Those scapes
Rock brows with frills of yews, pines
Cloud ruffled about it like a boudoir dancer's hem
I see worlds beneath them
Under the foot time long stamped down, buried
Barrows and dungeons, first glimpses of ebony and gold
Riches piled in mountains, infant
To the soil above
And surrendered to otherworldly hand so,
Minds like mine may see them
And let daydreams grow
Like the yews and the pines
And feed the clouds
With the breath of our sighs
Each time

I just learnt something
And narrowed my world
Pulling corners of the table
Closer to me

I just learnt something
And my friend did not
So when he speaks, when she comments
On waste on her tongue, elastic in his breath
Wrongs don't decompose and I don't forget the smell
Error, errors in their legend
And a narrower world with less space to breathe

I learnt something today
And burnt one wick of wonder,
And now all I have
Is a certainty
Ahead of an error
As concrete ink
On a page lies ponderous
And I feel my way fall lower
I learnt something

His red shirt lingered on him
Drawn across his back, casual as he liked
In a sense his dark jeans and red shoes,
Gently tossed his image to my eyes
Where he lay in my imagination, etched into a rhythm that stayed still
Peaked features pointed in all directions, ears
Perked to listen, eyes
Sharp and facing anywhere but me, face
It, his hair seemed to say, we're not meant for each other
With a casual wave of a parting

But I kept staring, though my attention almost slipped
And I regretted it, though not the tale he threatened to tell,
But the sense he could have said more
Never moving from his corner
With red drawn about him,
Like a poisonous warning to all
Who might see more
Led me to such feeling.
No more.