you Tug, and Tug these Servile Strings,
you've Sewn inTo my Flesh
i've Sewn a Few on You as Well,
a Tangled Gory Mesh

Ev'ry Tug i Take will Rip
your Skin from Off your Bone, but
You've got Quite a Sim'lar Grip,
tug Rip,
cry Laugh,
and Moan

Two Puppets, Each Other's Masters
Together, Beget **Disasters

and there
shall be a call
of the tormented
gathered as one
where bells peal
haunted
by the withered will
of a yew tree's shawl
summoning under
its protective veil
left from winter's
warning tale
to those whose
summers never
fail
and those who left
their clock to rust
yet trust that strike
though dull as dust
eleventh hour at
midnight past
too late they fast
turn round their heart
to wind it back
and grind the beat
imparted by its
creaking sticks
which speak of stumps
low cut to fit
that fate below
the mighty oaks
who may in pride
loud beckon youth
to climb great thrills
yet use no rope
though soon a meeker
whisper rose
to shake them down
to the ground of woes

The woman knows what she wants
The woman knows how to get it
Is this a story as old as time
Played out with repeated predictability
And a resolution inevitable and clear?

Beauty and cunning wield a deft hammer
Subtle as the breeze from a butterfly wing
Why do I dance to her magnetic tune?
I pull away, at least I try
Her ambivalence ensnares me once again.

Don’t think I’m here blind and foolish--
I’m awake and analyzing her every move
But reason is worthless and weak
Logic is lifeless and limp
Against the curve of her back.

I crave substance; she ponders…
Gives me vapors and fog.
I want loyalty and trust
She smiles, that’s her truth.
How does one say no to a woman?

Her experience belies her age
But youth is her strength one minute
And her weakness the next.
She juggles her assets in hypnotic circles
I’m left wondering what’s behind that silky curtain.

She’s a crafty contradiction
And I’m learning at her knee
Oh what a knee it is
I’m taking lessons from a master
And I have to go, school’s about to begin.

Today the last drops of Hope
Disappeared down the drain.
Unceremoniously.
A slow circular dance without even
A goodbye.
It had been her companion for so many months
Years even.
It nurtured her and she prayed
That her trust would not be in vain.
This pain is not new--just sharper--
and no longer tempered by Hope.

She has built a wall
That can’t be scaled.
Isolation doesn’t lessen the agony
Physical comfort is no cure.
Heartache is like the seasons
It dissolves according to its own rhythm;
A schedule that laughs at our
Attempts to start summer in May.
Love that won’t be returned
Leaves us bobbing endlessly
On the unforgiving sea.
The heart listening devoutly
Devotedly
For those faint murmurs
Which keep it beating.

She waited many seasons for him
Colored leaves to be buried in snow
Then daffodils bringing hope
But falling soon in the heat of summer,
And then lonely winds of November.
How many springs would be enough
Until she knew her love would
Never bloom?

Today is the first day without hope
Waiting no more.
Feeling naked, bruised
But unshackled by a dream,
A nightmare?
Jericho will blow his horn
The wall will come tumbling down,
Maybe not crashing, but brick by brick
Stone by stone.
Will she love again?

I grab at illusions
They fog my brain
And emotions
Then softly melt

I acquire crates
Of love and vows
Upon the mantel they stay
But some things get lost
Along the way.

Sample my elixir
I hear the gypsy woman
A cure for the broken heart
A balm for the scars of love

I collect the cures
They merely feed the disease
Upon the mantel they stay
But some things get lost
Along the way

I seem to strive
For second best
It has its charms
And lower expectations

That sharp pinnacle
In the blazing midday sun
Exists for climbers
Scaling their dreams

I prefer to seek
The plaintiff plateau
Upon the mantel they stay
But some things get lost
Along the way

You told me
I made you tingle
all the way
down
from your head
to your
pretty little
painted-toes
& with your
beautiful slender back
up against the wall,
we comingled
& you told me
you loved
the way
I fulfilled you.
At least
that's what
you told me
when you screamed.

It was a glass of liquid sunshine
If I were to believe the waiter
My senses would be flooded
With essence of vanilla and
Glimpses of the land.
There would notes of citrus,
Faint odor of old leather
And deep berries would overwhelm.
If I shut my eyes
I could relish the peppery finish
And the buttery after taste.
I would be a fool to overlook
The healthy dose of tannin
Balancing the sweet cherry, plum and cassis.
The wine swirled in my glass
The fragrant bouquet filled my nose
I’d be lying if I said
The anticipation didn’t create
A certain aura of arousal.
Not just the sunshine in this glass
But all four seasons inhabited
My crystal goblet,
And the sheltering moonlight
Was in there too.
This wine surely has character
Like Gandhi or Churchill perhaps.
And legs. What legs.
Slender and vibrating
Long and glistening
I could stare at those legs
Until dessert.
Having passed the cork test,
All eyes were upon me
Lifting the bowl of undulating liquid
To my lips.
I sipped.