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YOU WEAR MY KISSES IN YOUR HAIR

You wear
my kisses

in your hair

invisible
to everyone

but us

they glisten
like emotional jewelry

bloom like flowers
of desire

you wear
my kisses

in your hair

smiling secretly
to your self

as to how
they got there

& to where
the other kisses

...are!
"YOU'LL BE SHARING WITH AN OLD RAF ACE
...TRY NOT TO WAKE HIM!"

The voice in the dark
telling me his life in a full

fathomed five voice
detail after detail after detail

stitched onto the darkness
so that I can relive it

unpick it
make it my own.

The voice in the dark
young and vigorous

so alive
so full of life.

"Jerry shot our guys...did so they did
as they came down in their parachutes."

A dandelion blown
by a child.

"Fishing is nice..fishing is calming!"
The man I can not see

moves from past to present
like a professional time traveller.

"We'd wait for a Jerry train
to go into a tunnel then..."

"Have you ever fished for trout..?
...then do a loop de loop and

bomb the tunnel at the other end...
...casting the fly far out on the water then

fly over and bomb the end of the tunnel
**** and bury the ******* at the one and the same time!"

Finally the voice in the dark
winds down as if it had been merely

a mechanical toy that
time forgot.

Sunlight invades the room
throws itself upon the floor

a parallelogram of morning
etched upon the floor.

The voice in the dark
is a gaunt old man

corpse like
mouth open  in a final plea

for forgiveness for
still being alive when

"...better chaps than I
died."

His story seeding itself
inside me

before turning
into words.
LA NEBBIA CI SI DIMENTICA

Imprisoned in
your iris

the city of Venice
lies

trapped inside
a tear

that does its best not to
...fall.

Then falls &
. . .falls.

You weep
Venices.

A Venice dissolves
meanders over a cheek bone.

I kiss each sadness
wipe away each weepy Venice

with the edge of
my cuff.

You defensively put on
your black Ray- Bans

but they make Venices
too

and a tear escapes
trickles under your shades.

I remove it with the tip of
my little finger.

A gondola
comes to court us

for the business of
romance.

You tell him to
"*******. . !"

Laugh your head
hysterically off.

I hold you
that's all I can do

soaking you up in
an emotional osmosis.

A fog quietly
tip toes in and

Venice & we
slowly slowly

are erased
from view

and the fog
forgets us too.
PARALLEL LINES DO NOT MEET.

-

-

Happiness...is not...a mathematical formula
that one can apply to supply an answer.

Rather...it is the sum of who you are
multiplied by who you are willing to be.

Happiness...like Mathematics
is something I was never ever any good at

& always made me weep
with equal parts

Desperation
Exasperation

&
Frustration.

Or, D.E.F.
for short.

For example:

If it took a man a lifetime
to dig himself into a hole

how long would it take
for half the man he used to be

to dig himself out again?

Questions – such as this
only caused me grief...

In Mathematics(like Latin)            
which I could also never know

I would cheat & repeat
words full of sound & no sense.

E.g.

The cares of the hippopotamus
are equal to some of the cares
that the other two hippopotami confide.

Happiness...like Mathematics
was all Greek to me.

I don’t know...that’s all I know.

But I do know that...
Happiness happens

every now...& then...

the only trick
is to be aware that it’s there & that...

Parallel Lines do meet...

...at Infinity

Q.E.D
AND THE WORLD WAS AS SIMPLE AS SNOW

You are like. .  .all
the dark shops of my childhood
where you enter with the little ****** of a bell

and the world blossoms

into a myriad of things colourful to sell
stacked in impossible & impeccable order

all yelling shining glinting wild & glassy

and the cash register singing with the hard earned money
and the little ****** of a bell lets you out again

into a world
excited with the falling of  snow

& the palpable approach
of  a Christmas when Christmas was Christmas

and the world
was as simple as snow.
LOVE SONG FOR EMILY

(for Emily Dickinson)

You handed me
your eyes

so that I could see
as you saw.

I looking
in wonder

seeing you sew
the world together

in quick little stitches

a perfect embroidery
of knowing

drawing the thread through
& through

until nimble as a needle

I knew as you
knew.

Oh Emily
I was always

in love

with the beauty of your eyes

& how they saw
& said the world

the quick dashes
of your mind

like Braille
to my blindness

the Morse Code
of your thought

leading me through
the labyrinth of you

bound
in a nut
shell

until I arrived
at the beauty of your eyes

and you handed me
your seeing

and...I saw.
* * *

Our English teacher’s voice commanding us to open our books at Emily Dickinson. Doing as I was told...I glanced down shyly at her words looking bravely up at me and immediately at once I fell in love!

Our English teacher’s voice proclaiming “I don’t like teaching this woman…I don’t understand her! ”

Oh Emily, I knew you as you knew me and had already eloped with your mind leaving only the empty shell of a schoolboy for the teacher to shout at! Us laughing...running away together...running through the wild woods of words...gathering words and turning them into the daisy chain of poems.
LOST BALLOON

crawling from the crash
I couldn't have died
if I tried

I had a son to save
laughed
spat in death's face

pulled him from the flames
I forbade him to die
he disobeyed

the car exploded
burning the edges
of the night

I survive
without him
a death in itself

my reflection
does all the talking
I just stare in the mirror

Christmas now
I feel like a lost balloon
sticking to the ceiling
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