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Craig Dotti May 2011
Aloft a Country Hill II

If I should meet you aloft a country hill
I'll build a barn
The field you can till

If you'd care to stay
There will be a place on the porch
Next to mine

We can walk to the pond
Through the brier
Past the pines

To the west, hike the mountains with me
and enjoy the view from the peaks
I know you
You know me
Though at this point, we hardly speak

Explore with me our shared land
We can do it together
Clasping our Earth -soiled hands
Craig Dotti May 2011
I look at pictures of you now living thegoodlife
It's not beyond me to say "I remember when we…"
But specifics, like the eroding shores of my home- town have been muddled
to bits and pieces of a kiss, a park, a cut on the palm

I guess I want to check in to know that I can still be 19
and love-sick to the point of death again

I want you to be a voice in the onyx night
When I'm drunk beyond belief and I need something, anything
On the other end of the fiber-optic cable
In that sense you could be any number of people
Saying any number of things
In that sense we are all too detached

In my head though you'd cross whatever rogue obstacle  
of nature or nurture, time and space
That I dream up
I'd awake to you in a nondescript white room
You'd be holding orchids and all the cards
Ripples that could hardly be called waves would be lapping up on the
Beaches outside the window
I'd laugh out of feeling overwhelmed
You and I would go about making love and memories that we'd both forget
Craig Dotti May 2011
We must stand firm as rock in the sea
We must bend like winds through grass
In this way we are strong and weak to last

Inevitably, the winds blow stronger still
And greater waves will crash
In this way all things must pass
Craig Dotti May 2011

Form into
so very beautiful
that it makes me stare in a way that I know I am star

Parts of me burning hot and bright
Parts of me fading away

⁃ QΩ
Craig Dotti Aug 2010
I.      I had once thought and so there for told you
that action is more important
than thought
So here I am writing my heart

II.    You say you like
My words
I say that everything I want
I turn into phantoms

        At days end for you, I am striving to be a rock, one that you
        Might hold onto in rough waters
and yet,
I am floating
in my own great, salty sea

III. I'll dream that we take
a long weekend in the city
it's raining
and it seems as though
the whole East Side
May float away
We order room service
and we intertwine
and it feels like the bond of
root in earth
of tide to beach
as atom to atom
as eve to adam
and we fall asleep
Things are quiet
You no longer bare that weight
on your narrow shoulders
My passed has passed
We fall in love and into sleep
and we do not
sleep to dream
any longer
We are living one
Craig Dotti Jun 2010
I see you from across the room.
It’s impossible not to,
I have to look through you,
To see out the window
You don’t look as good tonight,
As his words might lead us to believe.
Good enough for him.
Good enough to write about.

He salivates over you,
Like I might over a steak.
Like you are over the poem he reads.

I may have lost you over this one.
Because he is tender.
Because he wrote one good poem.
Because he might kiss the same way he *****.
**** the same way he would,

Put his thinly pursed lips,
On the curve of your neck.
But he wouldn’t appreciate your neck.
I do.

He might not be spitty
Chapped from years of rejection.
I stare at your neck
I’m sorry if I stare.
I need to see out the window,
During this three hour class,
To know the world is still there.

He doesn’t know your feet.
And if he did *******,
With your socks on or off.
He never felt the abrasion,
Of your well-earned calluses.
You always feel the scruff of my chin,
On your neck.
The neck he will never know.

**** me on my bed.
Bleed on my hard-wood floor.
Let’s get out of this place,
This three-room mansion.
We’re either better than this, or,
I am delusional.
Craig Dotti Jun 2010
Just Days Before XMAS

I’m up on a Sunday morning so early that only the church goers are out on Spruce St. But I do not believe. I’m not singing along with my favorite songs. I don’t know that they are still my favorites.

I’m ******* onto faces that aren’t there. Don’t remember throwing that desk through that wall. Don’t remember being that strong. Ever. I do remember wanting to see you **** her last night. I’m sorry.

I see people chiseling off the glaze of morning-ice from their shiny, leathery luxuries. Mine’s from my ***** hair I napped too long outside. I ask them if they would like my help. “Excuse me sir, my mind’s not right (I’m in a bad place [right now]).”

I get home to sleep in a fortification that I don’t know. Surrounded by people that I’m even less familiar with. And I wonder why I didn’t crash my car going 400mph. into the back of that electric trolley that looked more like a nostalgic toy than something to ride upon. Look at me: I drive a V6.

I sleep until I am ***** again. Not hungry, *****. I **** myself with  a grip that borderline feels like yours

I wake up so late on a Sunday afternoon that I couldn’t possibly call myself a football fan. I love the Dolphins.
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