i just want the
bleeding to stop

my body to realize
it’s fine and it doesn’t
need to do this
it’s only hurting itself

all i see is
blood

it’s not the cut
that hurts the most
it’s the sting of
regrets that follows

so many
types
so many
shades
i’m so
tired of it

blood
more
and more
blood

why do i
do this

why do i
do this

WHY DO I
DO THIS

i don’t want
to live anymore
it hurts too
much now

too much
blood
just make it
stop

but i’m the
one who got
into this mess
how do i expect
it to stop while
i stand by?

look what
you’ve done now
do you feel
any better?

i didn’t think so
a sinking ship
that you keep
climbing back on

but for ten minutes
the fog in my
head cleared
as i watched the blood

bubble to the
surface and
run down my leg
forgot all the bad
things the bad
thoughts as it dripped

but i’m tired
of blood
so tired
i want it to end

I .
I saw the past flee from me
Leaving puddles of memories -
( memories of sadness , salt and pepper , bread and butter ) -
How close we were together
The Glenn Iris in September

II .
The ocean swelled and crashed on the rocks
We made love not unlike the sea
The winter was cold , frozen in love
Then she chose to leave
All my seed fell frozen
All my dreams winter bare

III .
For February fallen
March ascending
Long frozen tears
soft wails , shivering chills
For the stars out tonight
are older than first love
have endured through the void and cold
and comes to me soft in comfort

IV .
There will be new dawns
There will be healing
There will be a new song
New hope and heart ,
as long as the Irish pipes play and wooden flutes . . .
. . . as long as there are walks at the end of the day
Secret gardens where little girls play . . .
As long . . .only as long . . .

V .
I drape the sadness like a quilt about me and dwell on being small
I'm not saying I'm overwhelmed ,
not saying I'm understood
Just saying a robin is
a promise on a snow covered lawn

VI .
Too much in the band
Standing on a corner downtown
Walking in the surf's foam
early one summer's morn
A train whistle  blows forlornly in a dream I have
Someone has been coming for me all these years

VII .
Was it all wasted ?
Was it something more than we know ?
A cup of tea in the morning
On the table lie the lines of rhyme . . .
and some time . . .
the supreme enigma

Outside the cigar shop is an elderly man
he is leaning against a parking meter
fumbling the quarters he pulls from his deep pockets
and dropping them into the machine
the metal clinking as it accepts the change
and only reading 20 minutes
the old man scowls at the meter and puts in more coins
until it reads 1 hour
he digs around in his pockets and turns them inside out
he has no more
grumbling to himself, he pushes away from the meter
entering the cigar shop
and I'm left sitting in my car wondering
how we can spare some change for more time
for the things that will lessen the time we already have

Death of unknown
Known stranger
Why does it bring sadness
Known through sight
You never met
Never would have

To reconcile with the fact

Was it the aura
Was it the soul
What was and will remain
The essence of it
What mattered as a whole