I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,

but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't
untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

Don't make friends
          with
The dead

          We see far more than we should
The thirst for life,
Is
          quite overwhelming,
With us
           We are hungry
No sleep for we
Never any solace
          We are,
That we are
Dead things

                  Ever living


Ever thirsting....

                  For you

Bind your dreams to your wrist
Because in the whirlwind
Of social gatherings
Filled with too much alcohol

Can they fly away
Become a paper plane
That glides softly out into the air
Into the dark ether of the night

And once the drugs are gone
And reality comes back
To look in the mirror
See that they’re gone

1579

It would not know if it were spurned,
This gallant little flower—
How therefore safe to be a flower
If one would tamper there.

To enter, it would not aspire—
But may it not despair
That it is not a Cavalier,
To dare and perish there?

To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.