I can feel you reaching across
miles and miles and miles.
I can see you in the sun casting
smiles and smiles and smiles.
I can taste you, and it's new
like I were still a child.
Yes, after all this lonely time,
you're still driving me wild.

Will I meet you?
Will my eyes see you again?
Will I greet you
like I did O, when, O, when
I first met you
and my eyes were closed on you?
Will I greet you
with arms open, open?

Woman,
I know it is
killing you -
the quiet -
because it is
killing me, too.

The moment
you told me that
we were through,
I got lost,
and now it's all that
I can do -

to be humbled
by the thought
of loving you -
to be angry
at what I thought I
needed to do -
to be happy
with being just one,
no longer two.

we don't sleep much around here.
the nights are too precious to squander.
we wander streets and alleys,
fields and fairways, looking at the moon,
begging the sun to never come up again.
drunk in our ways, in our loves and hates,
feeling with broken fingers
for broken hearts to mend.
when we find one, we keep it hidden.
we shut off the lights to make love,
moon dangling above our pillows,
smoke billowing out the window
to show we are done.
and we don't sleep much around here.
we make secrets of ourselves.

Taking it slow, now.
No sudden movements or I
might come to love you.

I got a hole in my pocket,
hole in my heart,
hole in the wall, man.
I'm falling apart.
They say that a woman
can ruin a man,
but he can ruin himself
fast as she can.

My head's been pounding,
my head's hung low,
my head's in the grinder.
It's all I know.
She's miles away,
but she's turning the wheel.
I'd write her a letter,
but she knows how I feel.

This other one calls me.
This other one shoves me.
Another one hates me
much as another one loves me.
But I won't have it,
need to love myself.
Take all these old pictures
off of my shelf,

Forget about women,
forget about money,
forget about love
eat my bread with some honey.
She might give me bad dreams,
but I believe I'll be fine.
Told her, "I'll be in your dream
if you'll be in mine."

Got broken up with today.
Expect poetry soon.

We periscoped through the flowers,
eyes white and wide with
childish wonder,
the color of our petals painted gold,
flashing wildly under beams of sunlight flaring through the leaves,
threatening to fall only too soon.
     Aye, but not us, not then,
for we were in bloom
and it was summer,
and the season proclaimed our love,
and our love the season.
But to look upon that sweet scene,
as would a ****** in the valley,
would be to recognize at once
the folly of a boy
in the presence of the flora.
For what was I to give
when all you wanted was before you?