Falling in love is an amazing feeling.
But I don't want to feel that every day for the rest of my life.
I want to feel what it's like to be caught.
And live every day with the person who caught me.

You were the best blanket
Now my coffee's my radiator and lover, both
I don't care to fix my shirt as it falls off my shoulder,
And sunlight bleeds over the bay
Paint splashes across the flowers in the windowbox,
Teenagers ride their bikes across the lane
Boats set off from the docks
Everything is just the same as when you left
I singed my hair with a lighter and took your picture from the wall
But you're still full of empty promises,
And I'm still sitting here, sipping coffee, waiting for you,
So nothing's really changed at all.

(at least the *** is new)

here's what happens

a mug crashes down from the shelf and there you are
looking down at the smashed pieces on the linoleum

sprawled out chaotically in varying sizes and shapes
many of them pointy
and if you touch a little shard
for example pull one out from under the refrigerator
there is a good chance it will dig into your hand
causing you to bleed
and so you just stand there and stare at the whole mess

the thing is
you loved that ******* mug
it was your favorite
the right shape: curvy at the bottom and again at the top
fitting like a glove to your hand: three fingers around the handle
and enough space not to burn your knuckles

and you stare and wonder how can this be
how can there be a mug, warm and familiar
and also this shattered mess on the floor
how is your mind big enough
how is the universe big enough

you've got to put them together
go searching for the superglue
but the container has sealed itself shut, as usual
it doesn't matter
even if you can recreate the basic shape
there are so many cracks
it can't possibly get through morning coffee

so you stand and cry
and make no effort to stop your tears
and they fall
on the linoleum
mixing with a few ceramic fragments

it gets dark
so you get a dust pan and broom
and do all there is to do: move on

A singer sings of love in song
But, I can't sing a note
I try to sing, but it sounds wrong
But, you must hear what  I wrote

I don't have much to give to you
But, I think I'll make a start
By writing down that I Love You
And by giving you my heart

I can't sing to say I Love You
But , it's for you ,And for you I'll try
My tears have blurred the words I'm feeling
And I will until I die


I can't find the notes and words
There's no music backing what I say
It's a lyric that will not be heard
Until there's music there to play

An empty page with dots and dashes
Missing from the story told
In my mind, the cymbal crashes
Making all I write seem cold


I can't sing to say I Love You
But , it's for you ,And for you I'll try
My tears have blurred the words I'm feeling
And I will until I die

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and ****,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.