What was, what is and what could be,
all at once coming to a focus,
breathing through the eternal moment,
being yours to create,
allusions, illusions and delusions,
at play, together.

I miss Marseille,
today,
though I can still see her,
I know I'll soon be on my way.

The dusty rock,
the hills embrace her,
the wisps of mist,
I miss Marseille,

her way, an understanding that:
if you can't, you don't pay -
prix libre they say -
associations of the worlds strays.

I miss Marseille
and hearing what she has to say,
on walls, from squats,
saying what's often neglected, forgot.

She's frank and clear
and has time for every kind of queer,
I long for her to lead me astray,
to change; I miss Marseille.

Always. The Sun,
the passage of the days,
anticipation at reaching ever corner,
a confluence of culture, Marseille the forum.

Tunis, Algiers; I can smell
the North of Africa,
hear the sails of all the boats
that traffic her,

I see them line the shores
of every bay
that twist and turn along Marseille,
Swigging from my bottle of beaujolais.

****, I miss it.
Just the thought, I can barely resist it,
I could pack it all up and leave today,
For Le Plein, Cours Julien, For alive Marseille

It belongs to all it's people, to us
and if you try to take it
watch the fuss,
the fury and the disorey,

****, I ******* Love Marseille.
Everyone's on the cusp of Love & Hate,
either knocking on or burning down the gate,
all indulging in their collective fates.

Now, a Picon beer with a slow sunset,
please know, I have not one regret,
just lessons from my passions
and ideas from everyday chic/schlague fashion

I will miss your elevator kisses,
your smile in the stormclouds,
the lightning,
so exciting and frightning.

I loved it when you hated something:
The tourists, Men suffocating the street.
I loved seeing how you could eat,
you will always be an inspiration

So, it will be fine, okay?
So long, Marseille,
with your West facing bay,
you are forever blue in my memory, never grey

But, I will miss you, Marseille,
and that's okay.

Does it all add up?
You should take it out
of the equation
1312
what's the cost of
disaster & devastation?

An acceptable loss
A reduction
Complete or Total
Destruction

What's the economics
of a butterfly,
The means tested
dimensions
of a vegetable,
the equation
for your dreams,
and the measure
for respectable?

Can you budget
for a life?
When all is said
and done,
who's counting
looking
down the barrel of a gun?

I spent so much time studying to get the right answers when, in fact, I should have been learning to ask the right questions..

I take strength from them
the mice are scratching inside the walls
I resign myself to the trees
as I move further into the forest, I'm forgotten
The Moon is a clock
I am revealed within, pale skin
a part of me stayed in the city
trapped
it makes me docile needy and wrapt
The moon is a clock
that my clouds often block
I resign myself to the trees
I take strength from them
they will struggle through winter with me
I have no faith in flesh
I love
They move below above
the trees wear the earth like a sock
The Moon is a clock
as I lay in the meadow
the grass covers me quickly
the taste of blessed sanctuary becomes sickly
I stare at chipped paint on floorboards
wrap cold knuckles on a dead door
I resign myself
The Moon is a clock
the clouds fluffy socks
we will struggle through winter
I will die in my own little world
this big one a backdrop
The Moon is a clock
As I move further into the forest
the bare trees become more honest
I take strength from them
they are here with me
I have no faith in flesh
the mice are scratching inside the walls
the leaves fall
this blessed sanctuary becomes a trap
my cold knuckles wrap
on a dead door
chipped paint on floorboards
I resign myself to the trees
and The Moon is a clock

The end of another season
wearing t-***** in October,
from a year long binge
I start to sober.

The forest gives its last display of colours
then, leaves drop
so, on the otherside you can discover
what was hidden there all along, by the luscious green:

your bare bones
your trunk, your spine;
the branches of time,
intertwined.