You can't make plans, you only break them;
Being on time is a concept you don't understand,
All those little quarks,
Those little moments when I look at you and wonder "Why",
But then you say something so incredibly clever;
that has me laughing at your feet,
You taught me how to smile at a time that I didn't have a reason to,
I had never had a friend like you,
I don't remember the exact day you stumbled in my life,
But I know that I'll never forget,
Your high pitched voice and boney hands,
I found you,
And you became my best friend.

Miscommunication
serendipity, anticipation,
blurred reality -
lost in the dialect
of a dream,
in pursuit
of Love
find callous irony;
subversion of desire
what's it all about?
to know and be known.

Mere seconds
of scrutiny
inferior,
I am shown.
Her appraisal
eviscerating
my warm flesh,
her tilted criteria
supplanting the interior,
voluble with
saccharine neologisms
and preferences
for the exterior.
(not mine)
Ironic was my
attraction to
her brain.

Lines, features
and symmetry,
image - the commodity,
aesthetics, the
currency
in this transaction,
cursory liaison,
incendiary,
collapse of the
insurgent ego -
there was no
us in the
the affair of
nothingness.

Bruised in
abasement,
I'm not the one -  
I thought I was.
Hyperbole -
the center
of delusion,
a curious
diversion -
avoid my life.

The allure of
the illusion,
transference,
the ordinary to
the romantic,
the perfect other.
Searching, the
absorbing project -
aquiring wholeness,
did she reject me?
I rejected me.

The escape into
fraudulent
sadness,
to mourn,
is to displace,
the disowned heart
by self is tragic.  
Should
I not mourn for
the one I'm
deferring?

Inside of me
It's safe,
to lament
the loss of
identity -
tension is agony
without resolve
sequestered,
in my pain,
self-imposed
familiar terrain,
upon retrieval,
awaking in
renewal,
mystery and destiny
providentially,
I am free.

I might have known
said Dotty
I might have known

you were just like
all the rest of men
but

said Brintskin
don’t you but me
you slime snake

Mother always said
men weren’t
to be trusted

and she was right
I should have listened to her
instead going off with men

at such a young age
but hang on there
Brintskin said

I was getting a lift
in a woman’s car
after a hard day’s work

sure
Dotty said
sure you were

I know women
and I know men
and what happens

when they get together
and what did she want huh?  
want to show you her etchings?

no it wasn’t like that at all
she just asked
did I want a lift home

after work and I said yes
Brintskin said
I bet you did

I bet you couldn’t
get that word yes out
quick enough

why I bet she had her ******* off
before you could blink an eye
and as usual

you had to get
caught out didn’t you
and Dotty paused

for a moment
to pour a drink
and sip it

all the while
glaring at Brintskin
and he stared at her

as if she’d changed
into a bullfrog
and then she sighed

and said
well what happened?
nothing happened Sweetie

Brintskin replied
she just offered me
a lift home in her car

and I said yes please
and so she gave me a lift home
Dotty sat down

in the armchair
and crossed her legs
and Brintskin studied her thighs

as the skirt rose up
as she sat down
and Dotty said

ok so maybe I believe you
maybe what you say is true
and I am just getting

the wrong end
of the stick
you sure are

Brintskin said
following the line
of his vision

as far as his eyes
could go
and caught a glimpse

of ***** line
whiter than snow.

Jane had climbed
the Downs with you

and had hardly spoken
on the tiring climb

along the dried up tracks
on the way up

and then at the top
standing beside you

she stared out across
the countryside

and said
you can see

where I live from here
and she pointed out

to the church down beneath
and you said

yes
and took in the church

and the house
where she lived

with the parson
and his wife

and tried to pick out
which bedroom was hers

and she said
I like it up here

away from the crowds
and nearer to God

and you studied her profile
and her hair

and the way she stood there
in that summer dress

and sandals
and with that youthfulness

and you wanted suddenly
to kiss her

and embrace her
but you didn’t

you just stood
and studied her profile

and moving closer
you reached out

your hand
and touched hers

and her hand was warm
and as you squeezed it gently

you sensed the pulse of life
run through

and the moment
seemed to explode

in your head
in a myriad

of colours and sounds
and you rubbed your thumb

along her wrist
checking the pulse

the life
wanting her

to be the one
and pointing upward

she said breaking through
your dream

look at the colour
of that sky

and feel the warmth
of sun.

I can see the weight hanging from your soul
And I wonder if you knew what you were doing when you hung it there.
It tugs at the corners of your mouth
And when you smile, well, I can see it.
It glazes your eyes and I feel it inside myself.
You uncover happiness across your face,
But your shadow is darker than it should be
And I can only guess the weight hangs there as well.
It has covered you up, smothered you,
Painted you a shade that is not quite your own.
You never bargained for a life like this,
and though you press on down the path you’ve chosen,
I can see you turn your head, longingly,
Towards the past.
When you lay your bones down,
Do they ache like the soreness in your soul?
Let them breath, open to the night,
Soothed by the gentleness of time.

You tell me to breathe
But after 19 years of breathing
Sometimes I want nothing more than to stop.
I hear whispers in the corner of my mind,
The ceaseless banging of time keeps me from sleep,
And the weight on my back has been growing lately.
I want to be Atlas,
To bear the burden of us all.
But my back would break with the world on it,
Just as it bends even now.
You say that it will all pass,
But with each round it rips me from myself,
And I can only wonder how much
Left there is of me.
I thought I could nourish you all with the tendons of my soul.
They come out of me like silk from a spider,
Like scarves from a magician’s sleeve.
But even those come from somewhere,
And even I need a bite to eat sometimes.
Not much.
A smile? The shimmer in your eye could fill me up.
But when you look away as the tug of time
Pulls the very core from me,
I collapse on the hollows of my insides.
Each time so far I’ve managed to save just a sigh,
Enough to inflate me up again. Just enough.
But one of these days you will steal my breath
And crush me at the same time.
What am I to do then?

I wanted to see you where the years were kind,
inescapably etched and displayed like
smooth stones spread out on velvet;
but I wouldn't ask. I rummaged through zippers
and heavy things.

On a cool summer night we heard a hiss of
broken stars across the desert sky
and looked up in time to see one pass over head
like a science fiction rocket ship.
It was a moment with you I will never forget.

It's funny how things are settled or settling
and divided by extremes,
jealousy   -   anger   -   hurt   -  houses  -  
etched stones  -  broken stars,
stuff  you  can't  find  words  for,  
stuff  you  wish  y­ou'd  written  down,
words  that  end  up  on  gravestones.

So leave me  with my imagination and your beauty,
maybe some nostalgia as my muse, add one more thing
for sure, make my children our children
not   half - me - half - devil - children
and maybe I wouldn't have to run,
wouldn't have to start a war.

Maybe I could be happy without
your etched stones.

Maybe all I really need is a broken star.