When you come to mind, it's difficult keep the memory away.
The time you scolded me in your old age.
Though it wasn't a scolding was it?
No, more a proclamation of discontent at the thought of my untimeliness; being late to take you to see her.
Frances wasn't doing so hot, lost in a state of degradation, falling out and soon gone.
It is difficult for me to have to remember the tears in your large blue eyes the day after.

I suppose now would be too little too late.
It was Monday you passed, you made it through the whole week.
And if you could only know the compliments your bouquet has been given, the words sound the same
when they hit my ears and I'm sorry, my apologies.
Angie will miss you.
I suppose that's why she let go feeling
Oh so sentimental but never shallow. I can't bear to think about her much, because she loved you more than I knew love had the power too.
What is left of what that dinner table once was?
Vern has gone, you have gone. Willard abandoned the lot of you, and I'm just not sure I ever want to make it as long as you folks.
Take me out early, so my friends don't die before me.

She is the grey that found color
and burned hole into my life.

She may have never been grey at all now that I've seen what she can do to me.
Ignite my frame of mind, leaving my palms sweaty. Bewitched in the strangest fashion.

She is the grey that may have never been,
there is knowledge all around us and she likes me just fine.
Being grey also.

She is the grey that found color
and burned a hole into my life.

She renders others grey at a glance
though she has no idea what she has done.
The color leaks out of them, a thin string taut extending from the nape.

She is the grey that found color
and burned a hole into my life.

Callow Crooks Cobblestone the name of man
in the sense that there is none to be spoken of anymore.
Catapulted his good graces out of the house to another realm where it's all whispers
of impish names and frozen as Halifax.
You can see the slander in the spumes of breath
Evident as they gallop along
Jumping on crystalline snow flakes.
Flailing, faltering, finally reaching floor too frigid to melt.

Mild light. Awake. Soft, warm spot against core.
Hummingbird peeking at me, bed head exposed in pallid dusty day light.
Breathing patterns do not always have to match: romantics beg to differ.

I understand it is my poor health and the years of smoking
I understand you never had that.

Electric blanket machine on 8
will your eyes be emeralds today?
Red wood bark four days straight.

At the risk of looking foolish I undress anyway
She left her clothes off the whole night through and never shivered once in February.
Taking breaths that feel worthy all over again.

I was asleep in the backseat
the rookie aircraft pilot
palms sweaty, muttering.

Lover leftovers with others
and no longer the apothecary
for each other.
"If you can't beat 'em hold your breath young man"

Bend down in the basement now materializing. There are no such wolves in the den, only an elderly woman who keeps strange hours and refuses to keep all the vessels clean.