whiskey breath,
cigar smoke.

thick rimmed glasses
over those green eyes.

He draws open the shades
Of night letting in the light
Of day reveals a vacant space
In the corner of his soul

Loneliness flees at the
Touch of her hand upon
His shoulder

Overwhelmed by
Her beauty as it radiates
From within her spirit

Her mesmerizing intellect creates
Irrational behavior against
His intelligence slipping within
The breadth of euphoria

He contemplates a
Vast vocabulary to express
His overflowing emotions
None of which he deems
Sufficient

His throat parched unable
To utter his deepest sentiments
He reaches for her hand and
Places it upon his heart
Etching the word “forever”

Chaque jour, chaque nuit,
Á la recherche de l'infinie.
Ton ombre me fait compagnie,
Sans toi je vis.



Les moments de notre amour,
Les chemins avec des mûrs.
Les fleurs que tu as cueillis,
Sans toi je vis...



Toujours with les beaux sourires,
Un oiseaux qui voulait partir...
Je me souviens de ta machine á écrire,
Ton visage, le souvenir...




Le papier blanc toujours passionné,
Mon amour est blessé,
Tous les mots avec tendre passion,
Je vis e navigue dans ton monde d'illussion.


Victor Marques

There is no easy way out.
Finding solace in cigarettes,
malice in each intent.
When we kiss and flash,
I taste snow and ash-
slippery, salty blood lust.
4 a.m galaxies and gold speckled chains.
The thud in your lungs and the flood in my veins.

Adjusting my pace simply to make space
for the passing of strangers I'll quickly erase.
From my celestial mind and my unaligned spine.
While these battered boots pitter patter
atop the gum splattered streets,
Where I silently succumb to an alarming defeat.

You,
jumbling and juggling my thoughts-
they cling like sweaty icicles in the their last dying breath.

You, me, we.
Naked on a patch of empty mattress
Everything too symbolic to possibly process
Standing solitary in unison
beneath the draining translucent sink above
a degree too warm, my skin blushing on accident-
insides tangled and squirming
when that warm wet hand wrapped itself so delicately
around an unremembered segment of skin .
a stray fingertip racing up my thigh,
my throat clasping at the shudder
as i glance into those boring brown eyes

"I don't **** people I respect."

But this was a truth that was too soon broken,
I was disguised, misguided and easily cloaked when
the eyes I knew from a childish fluke
swept me
into a bed of nails that i thought
would protect me

you, me, we-
behind a rubber duck shower curtain
in the spotlight of the stage
where the x's had been taped
i was made certain a foolish damsel in distress
to each falsified caress.

but in those last fleeting moments
where the memory's page
starts to curl and break
you reached your arms out to me
and like damp sheets in the breeze of my body
we take our final plunge for all to see
and we lower to our knees
to scrub the smudges in between.

It was 2 a.m, as usual.
The doorbell rang and I knew right away
who would be slouched against the rusty gate
stuffed with cylindrical flyers full of food i'll never buy.
Hunched over in a hand me down coat
with that strange scarf I never liked tied around your throat.
You flashed a smile, a brief “hey” slipping through it's lack of authenticity.
and I mimicked you, as babies do, and stepped barefoot onto the
cigarette littered leaf scattered stoop, a bowl of knock off cereal cupped
in both my hands, my hair still wet, my mind still drunk.
I fumbled to the stairs and placed myself atop them
and you mimicked me, as babies do,
placing your fragile frame beside me, a few more inches away than usual.
Without hesitation you slid through your speech
and I nodded and smiled and continued to attempt to attract you
despite circumstance, despite that glowing ominous ornament
dangled high in sky, distracting my eyes and passing the time.
We agreed to demolish whatever was left standing from that wall we built,
of awkward breakfasts, yearning eyes across parties, anonymous hairs on jackets,
make out sessions on tattered couches, greetings with waves.
All the details deleted, left unfinished, perhaps one day to be returned to.
As unlikely as I figured it to be.

I rose to my feet, the wind whipping down 21st street,
my tar black makeup still loosely lining my eyes,
I gently rested my head on that shoulder I so briefly admired,
and admitted to my early infatuations; the poems I had written but would never share.
You protested, said you were curious of them.
I denied you, and you didn't ask again.

But if you would've- just once more.
I would've read you them.
Maybe even this one.

But you didn't,
and much like babies,
we mimicked each other
and crawled away.

Walk
Down cracked sidewalks but forget where and why the going started.
Lost in the chaos of moving feet whose unity lies in their organic flow,
Perspectives shift to some new truth: experiencing its constant displacement.

Here
As bodies carry me forward, they rush to the rhythm of those who desire our desires:
I smile and laugh at voices screaming out from billboards and TVs
“What you need is need itself! Don’t look within, but to ME!”


Drift
Down the street and pause at the window’s reflection.
Behind the still face staring back lies the world’s movement:
With purpose distorted by its realization, the present bursts forth out of nothing:
Pushing
Onward from some inconceivable lack,
Towards a resolution that will not resolve.  

Here I close my eyes.
Here there is the silence between thought and its realization:
In which the meaninglessness of boundaries can be discerned.
Here I find myself fall away into everything.
Here I find only Love.

A dark ocean carried by the wind obscures my travel.
As the last sliver of light disappears behind the ghostly sea of clouds, I dream of you.
Memories worm their way into my conscience.  
Like your fingers gently weaving through my hair,
Though I have not even reached my destination, I can only think of returning.
I must repress what passions remain or this week will tear me apart.
Away from you I am away from life.
These thoughts rush by along with the clouds: transient in their form, continuous in their substance.
A voice pulls me away.
Her face, barely visible in the dark of the cabin, once beautiful now wrinkled with time stares at me with a formality: a smile.
The cold cup passes from her hand to mine, and I am out the window again.
The clouds are gone, replaced by the spreading tendrils of light that characterize the spontaneity of urban invasiveness.
Looking down I see cars, buildings, people, and in this transient state between destinations, between sleep and wakefulness, between happiness and sorrow, I dream that each one has a face like yours.

I dream of a world filled with you.

There's a distance here between us, perhaps its safer that way
but every shared moment a laugh or smile
our fingers nearly touch
Its all so delicate, would you not say?
we balance on a spiders web
to fall or fly
to fall or fly

what even is love?
are we too young to know?
It all seems so tarnished and unclean these days
I'd rather keep my heart to myself, you know?
The clinton cards and teddies emblazoned "you're the one" just so artificial, so unreal
to step into a world of cliché does not enthral me..
perhaps I was not meant to love another
in this world of safety, the risk seems too steep
yet so tempting...

oh, but why must we complicate friendship with the longing to love?
it is merely human instinct?
we have no need to wallow
we're young,
we're free
why do we waste our days pining
we're no Romeo or Juliet,
no star crossed lovers
some days I'll choose to distract myself

but I miss you when we are silent
my mind walks in circles, hand in hand with your name
my hearts used to a lone routine
it wants to be pulled, to change change change
this is just another midnight poem,
is it not?

A close one once told me,
he must appreciate that you read
for a girl whose studied the literature of love must be deserved
did you know I've read it all?
the words, the sonnets, the songs
its less personal to read of other loves,
instead of write my own
this was never meant to sound pretentious,
more a babble of words to a stranger

if I told you I'd loved you
would you have known all along?
sometimes I cannot help but wonder
I'd prefer not to know

oh, the temptation to hold your hand
when we walk together
it seems an impulse,
a body's natural instinct to reach out, to hold
I trust my head to tell my heart No.
it's all too delicate, too close to home

its easier to keep silent
to let the moments between locked eyes,
be locked away in a box
I'll keep my shaking hands to myself
its safer, safer
I've always played by the rules
I only want a friend, a special one
but it would be unusual for friends to hold each others hands
oh, how annoying it is that everything has to have a reason, these days
there's nothing a fact can't explain

is it okay to say, I just can't say
the correct words
even correct grammar escapes me
you of all people would correct me...


the head says
play it safe
it's enough to
be the friend, the brother






but sometimes, my heart wonders,
if i sailed away,
would you call me your own true love?

i consume you
furiously
devour you
but, lovingly ---
i mean no harm.

i must feed
you see ---
and you are all i
have left

teeth and flesh and blood
are one, see ---
my love.

i am greed and
desperation ---

until you are nothing (but my eager breathing).

Two love sick birds high above
unconscious of the cold,
male cooing his words of love
female like a marigold.

Perched on a branch which overhung
the stillness of a river,
they played for me a sad song
which brought to mind a lover.

They nestled there, side by side
as loving birds are peaceful.
I watched with awesome pride
those birds with love so full.

Then startled by a noise they rose
and flew off through the forest.
I sit here now and just suppose
that they, like all the rest,  find something to protest.

This peace which was injected
through my troubled heart today,
rested in its fervent bed
while waiting for a display.

Our leaders though so unkind,
usher in twelve months of hate.
And ev-er-y-one seems so purblind
except that male and his mate.

Now the silence of their absence
and love lessons we can learn,
unaware of our own presence,
and lust desires which we yearn.

Those two white birds were so alone
in their union and their bond,
they wanted  people all to see
the rising of the sun, the coming of the dawn...

It isn’t funny I have no money,
but it gives me a chance to make romance,
since I am here and you are there,
I must let it be through my poetry...

                   One good thing about a poem
                   we surely must admit,
                   is I can change the format
                   whenever I see fit...

This little card has come to bring
a very merry Christmas cheer,
and all the peace and joyful things
throughout the coming year...

Whenever life seems such a mess
and you feel only strife,
look on the love and happiness
you’ve met throughout your life...

I so much wish to see you
before the first arrives,
if only not for other plans
I’m sure this would come true...

Remember this, my final thought.
Your happiness stands well above.
No one else can give to you
my undivided love......

Silly games we play
on the game board
of life…
under the pretense
of irritable hushes….
and the stubborn
disingenuous excuses.
The games we play
as if we were twelve
remain with us and
cost us precious time
that neither of us
have to waste…
We move like pieces
and buy hotels or
rent rooms for the night
and play the games
only to hurt from
the loneliness,
self pity and confusion.
The games we play
are not as fun
as they used to be
when we were young,
because there’s so little time
left to enjoy them.
The games we play
are not games at all
but rather
the lives we
choose to live.