If I could catch all the tears I've cried in a pitcher,
I would rain them down,
Drown a river in my sorrow.
Drown my sorrow in a river?
What's the difference? Life is only borrowed, anyways.

A spider clearly defines its web-
Interlacing moments of divinity.
Music between its fingertips,
A symphony.
It smiles, bearing fangs,
Yet a sweet picture,
Catastrophe.

marvel at the complex-pattern
painting such a span of swirls
light-panels less than shimmer
in the afternoon shadows on the wooden kitchen-table
biggest fear - your leaving


1.
beautiful summer-days lost in your eyes
oblivion dances like a wily-***** at hypnotising fire-licks
from our languid-bed, I'd lazy-feed you lox-on-crackers
and everything you liked
heaven never had it so good

........................till

woke up and *you weren't there
where'd you go to?
no letter, no call.. for days


2.
to overcome this fear
I brought in a  b-i-g-g-e-r  one
that used to drive me to serious-pitfalls in the past

off to the exotic pet-shop, my toes marched me
and I got one - very toxic thing on legs
without a natural terrarium

once home, I set it free
I set free.... my biggest fear
        to blot out your absence
        to overcome your presence
        to forget you

it crawled around and made a home
while I hardly breathed nor slept
and moved about on ginger-steps


3.
I kept feeling strands of your hair
          in my sleep
          on my cheek
          inside my cry
and woke to moonlight bathed in sweat

I did not wash your pillow, after weeks now
I bury my face in olfactory-memory lingering
and pine for you, but I see your missing set of keys and..

/ scratch .. scratch /

I hear a sudden scurrying
heartbeat jumps out cage
eyeballs to the parquet-floor

nothing.


4.
I'm getting used to this new pet
and she doesn't mind my breathing
                    oh, I swear she's a brain-scanner
                    when she looks at me that way
                    like she can read me.. through and through

I dare not pet, I dare not touch... ohhhh no!
       I leave her the daily-bowl of delicious, fresh worms
       to find it empty in the evening
I guess, thanks for freedom.. of sorts

one day, I left the window open
as I jotted down some poignant thoughts
at my antique-escritoire
    espied her legs upon the solar-sill
    thought she'd be running... a leaver, too
but no..    
                 she was sunning all her legs awhile


5.
the season's changing.. leaves are falling
crackle of wind in the air

now, I'm making me some coffee in my silver whistle-***
hot, solo beverage to calm my settling-mind
when.. ping-ping.. comes a text
lo and behold....
it is you...

you!


6.
delirium / delirium /
(I'm on cloud-nine... you're coming home tonight..
                                      you love me so much, you say..
                                      made a mistake..
                                       you've got something big to share..

I've taken time to prepare a special-meal.. candles and all your faves
but must pop out quick to get some lox...)


I'm back now, got the stuff now
key in lock
but the door.. jammed by a weight.. of sorts
can't seem to push the ****-door open...
shoving hard, I see........







fear compounded by a minus
simply multiplied
disaster




S T - 4 dec 13

If I could I would write letters to the wind and ask for lessons on how to blow you away

If I could I would take a star out of the sky and put it in a ring and ask you to be it’s replacement in my life

If I could I would keep you between my second and my fourth rib, so they will tell you they’ve missed you.

The first time I saw you, I smiled with my mouth open to let go of the crickets I buried in my voice box so I could say hello

How else can I explain to you that our stories are God written guitar solos to the keys of our DNA, and I’m more electric and you’re more acoustic.

On some days you look like there are lingering pieces of a boombox etched in the framework of your spine. In simple terms your body speaks volumes.

On other days you feel like there are too many fault lines on the rail track of your spine

Those are the days I want to tell you I’m a pretty good conductor

Your voice sounds like an unfinished love song stuck in the throat of an ’80s jazz musician and I’m more of a hip-hop kind of guy, but I would make kissing you the perfect symphony.

I’m more like the odd boulder on a sandy beach and you're the entire ocean but I've drawn coastlines on the chambers of my heart

With you I could build sand castles in hourglasses, cos I wouldn’t feel time pass.

If I could I would write this poem on the wings of a butterfly and say to you “Here I think this belongs to you, I found it in my belly”

“just a small dream”
“It was childish to think…”
I thought

The cold stole my breath
And froze each digit

“It was childish to think…”

My body slunk into white
As the thought raced through

“It was childish to think…”

“that”

“I”

“could”

“fly”