i start out brunch with a double *** and coke
and consider the three bottles of long aged scotch
in the back room on the bookshelf
waiting for my palate to mature

meadowlark song beyond the bedroom window
the grey curtains drawn but sunlight still leaks in
the whole place a weird cool haze
on a soon-too-hot summer morning

i wash socks in a small white tub meant for dishes
the laundromat could save so much time
but some strange weight overcomes me
some unspoken dread lingering

it's a cruel thing to admit
often what i miss most about you
are all the places i never actually kissed

the summer days leave me
dappled by the burning sun
the heat paws at me and sometimes
being this mess i am
i imagine it's simply you

I have ears...


God!


Please let me hear.

Summer slipped out sometime after midnight;

Left the door open wide.

I couldn’t convince her to stay

No matter how I tried.



Autumn arrives in elegance:

Her own offerings of intimacy;

But my skin still tingles from Summer’s bite,

And all the pleasures she gave to me.

Don’t resurrect my sins
To torment me

I’ve burned down
All my hopes and dreams;



I tremble in the dark
With weary heart and heavy sighs

For one day soon I must see
Either mercy, or justice, in your eyes;



I have failed
From my very first breath

And eternity looms
Just beyond my death.

It was a striking dance between us
that night you
pulled the secrets from my sinews,

you sought all my darkest mysteries
and nearly pierced my soul

oh that we then let go.

there are no words left to me
to admit
how I long to see your eyes again,
and plunge back in
to that stunning storm

what can I say?

though now you are
beyond my hope,
my true heart has
never let you go.

my cousin is
an artist
of the highest degree

and tonight
another masterpiece
brings me pause
bids me see

how
oh how
i just wanted to be known
in these fleeting days
i just wanted to be known

i wanted it all;
days set aflame
to burn hot, untamed

but my words falter
and my steps bring shame

i still want to be known
lay these secrets out
let them burn in the day light
but i bundle them up
and carry them with me
through every taxing night

She smiled like April

Breaking out of winter gloom;

She laughed with the fervor

Of a sudden shower in June.

Every Sunday afternoon

I curl up in this half empty bed;

I replay the memories

I’ve rewritten in my head

And sometimes whisper

Unheard prayers of shame.

Maybe I’ll eventually reconcile

You’ll never again speak my name.

A heady brew of espresso

Mingles with the dewy air,

Buttery pain au chocolat

Makes for quite a pair;

The morning warms to the songs

Of the chipper moineau,

And lovers beneath the columns

Of Parc Monceau.

Notes scribbled out on
last call napkins,
sometimes sharing space with
uncalled numbers,
tucked neatly away in
the little desk drawer,
nestled in with notebooks
either brimming over or
brand new;

All i ever manage are scribbles
but all i ever see is you.

Gracious,

I've hardbound copies of

Tasting Paris

and

Koreatown

side by side.



No

I don't want some

"delightfully delicate" fusion

of these

opposite ends of the earth.



In equal measure

I am torn in two

and thus

it seems

my name

holds true.



All this world's time

is not enough.

In between
Dusky alleyways
Hang strings of the
Monday morning wash.

Here wealth and without
Are thus reconciled
By this common chore,

Strung up at either side
Of the bone-broth shop
And the opulent five-star

How often still

You slip between

My restless thoughts

And fitful sleep

And how it is

Your lips belie

The promises of which

They sigh

i've been shuffling around in the socks of a dead man

i don't want to die in a hospital bed
mummified quite politely in their
robe of humiliation
before they wheel me off to excavate any
unspoiled organs
to suit another ill-fated man

i should be out
on the charred pavement and
streets of dust
catching the taste of this bittersweet place
on the edge of my tongue
though the dregs and the derelicts
trudge beneath a weight of weariness
and i am fit between it all

Far removed from family,

I flounder:

I fear

I'm failure.

balancing on open palms
a choice between
whisky and coffee,
for neither

at this hour

is necessary,
but either
at this hour
seem right

Dozens of scars

Laid upon her arm;

Her smile

Sudden as dawn;

A fractured heart

Recovering;

A song that

Ever goes on.

This bed is far too big.

There is no beauty being adored,

No lips being kissed,

No limbs being caressed,

No festive mingling.

I am left with naught but

Lukewarm bittersweet memory.

I’ve seen Seoul at night,

From miles high,

Gleaming like a hoard of gold.

But I’ll stick with the countryside,

When I return, when I’m old.

Spring takes an age to bloom

Summer fades in an afternoon

Autumn lingers in brown and gold

Winter steals in and never grows old

In pursuit

          of perfection,

Seldom have I

          also seen success.

Already the leaves are brightening
In bursts of orange and red, and
Swiftly separated from slender branch
To dance across the busy streets,
Where they will lay
Like dimly golden harvest grain,
And soon too the rains will change
Until mornings dawn with
Foggy street lamps flickering;



Gems of the celestial storehouse
Nestle about unwavering evergreens,
And in a moment of earthly quiet,
Whisper the soft echoes of hope, tarrying.

You were,
to me,
more heady
than the finest wines of France.

You were,
to me,
exemplary;
an unexpected innocence.

How long now has it been

Since we met up, just to end?


How many months passed

Since last I brought you flowers?


But second chances now belong

To the moments long since gone.


Memories raised up on false hope

Remain bittersweet, and hold no power.

I've listened long
To men so loud
Boasting on and
Ever proud

I've listened less
To honesty
Fearful it might
Undo me

Her voice is lush,

Appetizing to my ear.

By it I blush, and

Discern my true fears.

About the age of ten

My eyes ceded innocence

And have thus been

Blind ever since

How I long to
Savor a moment with you,
Of crème brûlée and coffee,
On the edge of a waking summer,
Beneath the shimmering stars
Of the final days of spring.



Saint Mary’s water
Is the envy of Glacier:
Icy blue, and
Scattered nearby,
Sunny wildflowers
As firecrackers frozen
Just as they burst.



We stopped our song short
Unable to hear the harmony
Of our notes combined



As a moth
I am drawn to the street lamp.
On a hazy cold night
I see a faint echo
Of ten million celestial lights
Humbled,
So my eyes may endure
Such singular wonder.



It is good to be unknown,
Sometimes.
I may sit silent at the corner of the bar
Secretly sipping chilled Lipton’s;
Pay my tab, and
Walk quietly away,
Without a single word.



I never knew the word
Desire
Until I discovered
The ways I could kiss her
I never knew the word
Famished
Until I learned
My plate was only empty
I never knew the word
Dead
Until I was invited
Into the arms of Love

I can’t stop thinking of you
Since that first night
I pressed my lips against yours

You trembled
In such a manner
I felt I was trespassing
Along the edge of innocence

But I trembled too
For I know I was trespassing
Along the edge of integrity

Goodbye,
July.
See you again,
After June
Has been back in.

The only difference

Between you and me

Is are you less

Or more lonely?

Five years
I’ve been begging
To forget;

Each night
Restores the gravity
Of my regret.

I want to be spring rain,

Dancing gently on you.

I want to be winter snow,

Melting at your touch.

My heart strives

This wistful day;

For all these things

I long to say

Ought be said

Behind closed door,

And simply stay

With whom I adore.

Street markets bustle
Long after dark.

Vendors offer sweet
Moments of satisfaction.

Hundreds of voices call
In a language I do not know.

In this new wild world
I have found home.

Soon after
Her vampire kisses
Injected sweet lust
Into my veins

She peeled apart
My aorta
Like pulled pork

And vanished
With the last fragments
Of
Whatever heart I had.

I delight in
the song of the meadowlark,
sonorous upon the fields,

And,

While I revel in
the rumbling refrain of the storm,
echoing on the hills,

I recall:

Though we were written only as
an alternate ending,

exclusive expression
delicately dotted
upon the utterance of
intimacy

And last,
there was Maria.

Her birth fell outside
the natural timeline of
all the rest of her family's affairs.

She may have called herself
'an accident.'

I could never make that connection.

She was the closest thing
to passion
I have ever known;
aside from childhood nights
beside an indifferent and well-fed fire.

She was terribly shy;

until she

tremulously

handed me (only one) of her keys.

[Alas
I wonder if it was ever
for the lock upon
her august heart.]

But she sang and she danced
and she ever approached me boldly.
She drew me out of myself
and brought me to wonder.

She even whispered with passion,

daring to share with me
her stately dreams.

And it goes without saying
(though I'll write it and lament)
she kissed with such passion.

She was above and beyond
any other girl I ever loved (...few)

Indeed,
I loved her.

I loved her,

almost enough.

I suppose

I'm supposed

To be scared;

But how ought I,

even were I  to die,

when I have done

as few men have dared?

I’m treading unsteadily
In between the plains of
Confidence and uncertainty

I’ve wasted much time.

I’ve given some **** good kisses.

I’m drifting right now
In these evening shadows,
As the sun sets down to sleep;
Drifting between heavy words

Like time,
And wait,
And cancer

To be

perfectly honest:

I'll never

consider

you

a regret.

I find every hour or so

Words bursting in my head

As corn kernels agitated;

And greedily

I scoop up all I can,

Though the result is often

A mess of burned buttery bunk.

I hope you are

A star-gazer

An avid embracer

A rainy day reveler

A countless kiss craver



A cheerful heart
Filled with
Joie de vivre

And for you, I hope,
All these things
I will be

I was born into
This disjointed world,
Already heartbroken;
And given only
Sixty years or so
To reckon therein.