If this is how I lose you
Do it quickly, please
I cannot bear the soft silence
Let me ache in peace

If this is how I lose you
Be cruel and unkind
For any pity that you show
Adds years to my demise

If this is how I lose you
I must say goodbye
To you and to the part of me
That loved for the first time

If this is how I lose you
My anger will come
As soon as the fire of grief
Has frozen me numb.

I left behind a home
Though one in only name
I know not what I search for
But couldn’t stand it be the same
To be bound was to be free
In the confines of a cell
Yet to be free is to be bound
By no good that I can tell

In taking to the seas
I hoped for some great change
But found that all things blended
And only varied in their range
I had not found myself
Among the waves or great white coast
I thought a path had opened
But it vanished as a ghost
No one or thing could remedy
The hurt I fostered close
No one or thing could change it
But the one was wounded most

So here across the Farrow Sea
I pull a dagger from my heart
Here on distant shores I sit
A world and man apart

Sometimes . . .
Such as a Who
. . . at Leeds ,
Or a dream unfullfilled
. . . in Alabama
Or the conflict
. . . daily in Dallas
or the absurd
. . . "Free at last ! Free at Last! Thank God free at last !

The more it changes
The less I recognize
. . . and there you elbow me
saying ,"It remains the same!"

Poetry is like underwear
It's wearable but not necessary
Comes in all shapes and sizes
Any color you would want
with printed statements of facts
Some wear well
Some have holes
Some rise to the occassion
Some barely make it waste deep

Let our memories be as gravestones;
we’d have traded in marriage certificates
for graduation certificates- place on top love and roses
Roses and tears, have gained the sweetest refrain
oh darling, forever entwined shall we always remain

Pleasingly chiselled marble slabs
every piece of our love story lettered in gold
Death makes us shrouded sleepers; beings barely
warmer than the essence of life and truest love
Love is to sacrifice self, with no intention of gain
the love ballet it is; dancing as heads of concrete bodies
I’ll lead ahead, the way into Heaven if I must go first,
as you always mattered more in the first place
Dead beneath all of our loved ones, still in an afterlife
we will live to fall in love again…

Cleanse me from
the dust of
the night, and
the apocalyptic
visions of my
slumber.
Fish guts, ****, or
insomnia may have
conjured these rotting
skin nightmares,
these mosquitoes from
hell.
I struggled to wake up,
but couldn't, and finally,
while I was flying in
a gray land of desolation,
and killers,
of nighthawks and harpies.
I soared through a
hazy wasteland, and arrived
safely back home
in my serene, August Sabbath.