Time, my love, for I have to go
To vanish like a shadow tonight
Returning, I do not know when
For a dark poet soul fades away

If you should dream of me
I will come, walk through your dreams
Embracing you with sweet memories
But for now, this is only a brief goodbye

Fond submission remains in your eyes
Alas, my dear, I wish I could stay
But do not allow your heart to break
I belong to the night of a thousand words

I carry with me the touch of your body
The knowledge of every part of your flesh
An ageless beauty forever in my mind
Remember me, until we meet again

The world just wasn't made for dreamers...
who live in some lost place between
the present and reality
where words are currency
and thoughts buy bread.

stolen kisses last forever
in the porch light.

©Ben Ditmars 2014

To do something else; a picnic
Basket with salad
And a bottle of kiwi wine
On a blanket
In the garden
Is as good a place to sit and
Not talk
As any

Sun setting behind pines and
Birches
The land owner's five year old girl
Has kittens
On her summer dress

We laugh as she plays
With our cat
Which seems to have grown
Affectionate of
Her

And somewhere on Earth
Love finds its way
To the surface of itself
And takes a long
Awaited
Breath.

I don't even have words,
For the ways that I don't feel,
I am not the waving of the fields.

I hold onto songs about the moon,
My tides do not swell with her,
I am more the darkness in this room,
Cold, unmoving, absolute.

I am not the motion of your hair,
As he runs his fingers through it,
I no longer even stare.

I Am not the climbing of tree,
I do not yearn upward,
Is there anything to see?
(or be?)

I am not the warmness of your breath,
Clinging tight to your fingers,
And the inside of your chest,

I am not the dreams you make,
As dragons fly by night,
And sparks flow in your wake.

I am not the whispers,
You feel close to your ears,
I am more like distant echoes,

I want to blame you
and remain blameless
because it’s easier to hurt
than be confused or
lost in your reflection
like the tide without a moon
brings shorter days and
darker nights.

we face the wild
shore alone.

©Ben Ditmars 2014

bukowski said, find what you love and let
it **** you*.

well, i am long dead before i met you.