Pull me from the proximity of my week long vacation from independence.
As you were.
the moment the weather changes I'm out of breath and caught waiting.
Allowing you to snag glances over shoulders too weak to carry much of anything but the cotton shroud
of inadequacy.
So to speak.
I don't want to love you like that anymore, though the thousands of questions of another work press down on my eager mind in waking and in sleep.
Pale frown, blemished diamond in your ear.
In any case,
I abhor, refuse, must deny the accompaniment.
Happiness is on the line and hung up twenty minutes ago as I dug my belongings out of a ***** space and left the building wondering why.

Once left a sequel. In dusty doubt
the time pieces are gathered round and decide against it.
Stop.
Sewer mouth claw at their shoulders, and sequelization resumes, no playback on playbooks scabbed over.
Make no decision at all.
Cease.
Caw through cowl's stunned and re-imagined the original:
1977 left his hat on when entering the room and expected a signal before things fell through.

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.

(a.)
Foreboding monolith of vapor: the light within you gone
Vacant, these shields of rust could use the Midas touch, that has kissed this territory
"has been" of forty-nine.

(b.)Undulations, groaning skies.
A baptism by the passengers of aerial descent and gorgeous remains dance about us.

Intangible, trickling, and howling in between.
Everything is somewhere but most times I am nowhere.
Everyone is somebody or a couple somebodies.
Sentiment is at sea or at least appears to be when my yellow bird is away.
Descending beads of my work
Jewels of (1) sustenance, which water the bird and keep thy beak from (2) drying.
Everything is the cause but the cause itself. Everyone is (3) reacting to an event or an event maker in between. Somewhere, somebody is something
and they are howling in between.

Those types of cats can shake me
especially when you're looking your best
the Oedipus Rex yields, and you wield his complex. There are tired green eyes there
that you wont be so privileged to see unless you wait for another spring
to pass.
And all the car lots look like demographic charts: we are the Geo Metro's while they are the Cadillacs
and BMW's.

Another night spent on cheap ***** and tea
some for your lungs, some for your gut.
A can of distraction, of seething wonderment
that hides the inner-workings of your dire disposition.

And, still

you plant yourself next to the rest of the wall flowers and sneer
and make pretend you know the deal
that you know time like Billy Pilgrim knew time.

You found me last night all exposed and vulnerable, swollen.
Almost a year to the hour you found me.
I never imagined it would be you to come looking.
You found me last night
so much the same. All defenseless and unexpecting.
Strange how your subtleties led to desire again, when at first all those months ago you were neither here nor there. That telephone number I didn't recognize, that poem I forgot I wrote.
You found me last night
with a hook in my mouth
and now with slender fingers
are yanking it so as to pull
my cheek out of my head.

You found me last night.

Crisis in all sectors
Ramble on alongside the majesty of your inadequacy.
Always feeling the same but not once with the fronts.
No you are forever amidst the armor that is falling to pieces,
it's fleeting rabbit's foot: leave the den of diamonds.
Eye sockets of frightened men more animal than ever
but looked upon simultaneously like fools gold.
Left and right and all about
Forgiveness not at all a consideration.

All within.
Shout your spells from the river: Spirit drawling; stand beside your sinner, or let him choke.
Let her first ask if her soul will wither.
It's okay if you hate me for this
Pull emeralds and ivory from my wrist
Now turn your cheek and make believe I don't exist.

I wonder...
Do you sleep well at night? Do you think about the immensity and depth of outer space?
Do you enjoy more than one cup of coffee in the morning? Do you forget things easily?
Do you think about me upon waking from some bizarre dream? Do you have dreams at all?
Do you remember them?
Do you ever wish you had super powers? Do you tie your shoes like I do? Do you aspire to love all that you can? Do you think romantic love exists? Do you believe that chivalry died a long time ago?
Do you enjoy *** in the morning? Do you fantasize about *** with me? Do you think I would please you?
Do you think it would last? Would you forgive me if I left you a mess? Do you enjoy flirting with me from across the room, green eyes open wide? Do you know what those eyes do to me? Do you know I am disembodied and float all around in wonderment? Do you know that I think about you this much?
Do you know that it scares me?
Do you know that I don't know why but this sort of crush is enough to decide you just might be with me for all of time?
Does that frighten you?
Do you believe in god? Do you believe in the devil? Does disease scare you? Could you live with guilt? Could you love the way a person yawns when waking up next to you in the tender morning? Would you travel with me? Do you know that I think we would have beautiful children? Would you believe that I have chosen names? Do you like poetry even if you don't comprehend it but it makes you feel something nonetheless? Do you know I write? Do you know I write about you? Do you know I've seen you cry twice over small, weak men? Do you know I might be another of those? Do you know that I do not want to see you cry at the sight of me? Do you know that you just might?

Do you wonder all these same things?

Oh Lowell morning
Youth runs quickly east then west
Allies teach no rest.

Mexican sun on
Horizon of Pacific
Eyes meet light once more.

Dean's fists on dashboard
Billie's voice over airwaves
Tannins on our tongues