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 Jan 2014 RA
frankie crognale
our love was like a wire.

you bent it until it almost broke, but eventually when you got tired, you gave up and readjusted it back to how it started.  however, there were still minor dents in it.  the dents were overlooked, and things were normal again. you took the wire and put it in the back pocket of your black skinny jeans and walked around with it for a few days, only leaving it there for it to keep getting contorted, all under your control. you forgot about it, and didn't give it as much attention as you thought you did. when you were sick of the wire digging into your body, you got rid of it. you twisted it until it's weakness got the best of it.  you bent the wire until you broke it.  

what you don't know, is that i was on the other side of the wire. as you stretched and coiled every last bit of flexibility that now small and frail wire had, you did the same to me.
it's been lovely knowing you.
but you broke the wire.
 Jan 2014 RA
rained-on parade
Pieces
 Jan 2014 RA
rained-on parade
You cannot fix
a person with missing
pieces.

And I have
fallen apart
so
many
times,
the pieces don't even
fit anymore.

To live in
pieces of your remembrance, I
wonder
how tomorrow could
ever follow today.

Empty rooms,
noisier thoughts.

The edges
have begun
to ***** away
at my heart.

And it
bleeds words.
"How do you move on when you don't know how?"
 Jan 2014 RA
r
Tinnitus
 Jan 2014 RA
r
My right ear has triple tinnitus.
It's true. I kid you not.
First there is the deep, low mourn of a foghorn,
with a louder high pitched ring above.
But stuck somewhere in between
is a beautifully sad Charlie Parker saxophone number.
It's soft notes range frome mid to low and drown
the foghorn and annoying ring while carrying
me away to dream.   My own nightly internal
Charlie Parker radio.

r ~  23Jan14
The tinnitus would drive me nuts if not for Charlie.
 Jan 2014 RA
Alia Sinha
Ellipses
 Jan 2014 RA
Alia Sinha
Thought of you spills
like the sea caught in a steel tumbler  
Each time strangers speak your name
And the cigarette smoke that is seeping
a chosen death through my lungs
Cannot quench you.

This is sweet pain:
sweet and desiccating, all plum stone, apricot seed

Patterns in the dark are drawn and
the world turns like roasting corn upon the coals of magical machines
and everyone is being pulled, heartstrings looped and
knotted together in golden electric lines

Such states crave ending in love and light. Something wholesome, mild and true.
Yet one thought stays splinter-wise:
I cannot reach you...
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