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Brian Bigley Mar 2013
The things
that break you open
    in the morning

They won't take you
     away
but for a moment

  when you're going-
Look back
once
    only

  then leave me to my misery-

I'll be the one that used to kiss
your wet footprints
to the bedroom
from the bath

The one who's dreams wandered
      around our house like cats
Brian Bigley Mar 2013
when
 the apple skin 
is fit enough for breaking
there will be
just as you said-
 pomp and merrymaking  

I'll weave a cozy nest for us
 beside a faery dell
and sing the song of stardust 
 on a lute of kitten's paw shell

but when the apple tree is dead,
 though the taste of fruit may linger,
it will be just as I said-
 Unenviable December

the song will chill among bows,
 seldom will be heard the music-
we'll know the place like wedding vows
 broken for our own amusement

  in the autumn, all is woven-
   nests and throaty strings

  in the winter forest
    no birds sing



                    -Brian Bigley
Brian Bigley Mar 2013
I took my love to Talby Faire
And there, the world seemed right
  To cut the chill that knit the air
  She clothed herself in white

Her gown, appearing linen
A silken symphony to touch
  Although the night was bleeding out
  In us there was no rush

My jacket was a tattered swatch
Some dead man's wife's donation
  Acquired many years ago
  When I was not so cold and thin

Her perfume made a different muse
At the neck and at the wrist-
  I'm sorry but I'd rather there be rope
  On both, with scent betwixt

And as the night, that pale blue mage
Worked magic over Talby Strait
  I wandered toward the bannered stage
  The bone white moon had made

And on the wood, three skeletons
All gentlemen, prepared,
  Took to the task of violins
  And music made they there

And in that din I lost her-
She's a stranger now to me
  I'm left to bow my violin
  And wail to Talby's eaves

I took my love to Talby Faire
We hardly knew each other then- 
  Strange music that the moon allowed
  Has made us strangers once again


                                     - Brian Bigley
Brian Bigley Mar 2013
for a healing
we gathered
small things

you'd gotten the idea
to bring a paper mâché butterfly

once it was dry-
 holding it above your head
 as if the butterfly mantra wasn't
 at the lip of some rogue amaranth-

you opened your mouth
but nothing
 sound
happened

a halo mocking 
the bitterfly saint

droop-wings of
soda pop bottle shards
plastic coated
paper clips jabbed
in for antennas


later we released 
a pinprick pine spark
toward an indifferent moon
Brian Bigley Mar 2013
My doppelgänger is too rough with me
Spoiling my every ecstasy

Tainting the words
I would have said

Tending the bitter chestnuts
in my bitter head

What good to grab his throat
 and squeeze?

It's me
and me
brought to my knees
Brian Bigley Mar 2013
My lovely teacher at love!
 Forever removing
 the sunset dress

My highest teacher of love-
 my ever
 radiant 
 and welcome
guest

My lofty
 teacher
through love,

Your smile
  makes me a mess.

My teacher
 at the table
 dissecting
  weakness



I am a dreamy student
 I never do the reading

You are my finest teacher
 lending agony
       meaning

— The End —