In a cafe sitting quite
wondering how tired
the waitress's smile is
as she shifts a slinky pivot
around tables
a routine on autopilot.
There's a tattoo shreak of violet
on her wrist.
Last night purged brightly from regretful mists:
Sprawl of limb
hinge and ******
flesh contorts
then erupts.
I read her script
she knew my score
rebound *** nothing more...
I think.
am sure.
...aint I?

Thick fog
muffling street lights,
confusing shadows,
smoothing edges.
Silent stretch of phantom arms,
damp embrace.
Smothering distance
veiled:
harsh city vanishes.
As wondrous as it is eerie.
****** into its vacume of nothingness.
Spellbound.

She never once asked why
I keep the twisted rosewood stick
or if it holds significance.
Or why Flann O'Brien's
"At swim two birds." has a place
by itself on the shelf.
She never understood my love
of jazz, metal or classical music
or wondered why
Hieronymus Bosch and Caravaggio prints
are in the hall.
She once said I should get rid of them all
"They don't match the décor."
She never understood the humour
of Leonard Cohen,
nor appreciate the raw beauty
of a Bukowski poem;
claimed they were just ***** old men.
She couldn't fathom why
I am drawn to decrepit ruins
or could spend hours just walking
without a destination.
She never will comprehend my love
for the ghostly hue of twilight.

More cut up from what was given
than what was taken in her leaving.
There is no mistaken
all was possible
for a while we were unstoppable.
then pop went the bubble.
The hardest patch will always pass
once removed rose tinted glass

Strange! Never noticed it before
distance from bed to door
in footsteps one per word
paced from sole to soul
"It is over for good."
Each a precise dagger throw
expertly tossed in the dark
piercing deep hitting the mark.

My heart feels old today
it rattles like a stone in a can.
My eyes feel cold today
as they strain for gems in a prospector's pan.
My feet feel heavy today
trudging the ruts I've created time and again.
My thoughts feel tired today
they eloped with all hope and ran.

Internal scream yearns to echo
lacking surface to rebound
when insides are hollow
a cry is the loneliest sound.
Breaking silence's seal
anguish looms worse
when none care to listen
desperate pleas become cursed.

Vision obscured by soft misty rain dampening harsh city lights
spilling slippery from storefronts and traffic train
shimmering upon pavements
between steps and stains.
soft misty rain
don't I know you?

Treated the plywood to be weatherproof, jigsawed to size base, sides and roof.
Applied non-toxic wood glue,
clamped pieces 'til sturdy and dry
not forgetting an entry hole through which birds may fly.
Took time with the birdhouse,
hung it snug in a tree.
If it will be used for the winter
I'm waiting to see.

Do you know any good doctors?
My pen needs a laxative

Has anyone else just heard a bell toll?
Am I the only one?
Have they been ringing long?
Is there meaning in their song?

The sky gifts the ocean raindrop kisses, embraces it with shimmering sunlight upon its ripples.
The ocean returns its love
with affectionate reflections
assuring the sky of where its heart is.

Not every caterpillar
wants to become a moth or a butterfly.
Not every snowflake or drop of rain
wants to fall from the sky.
Not every petal of every flower
wants to tilt its face towards the sun.
Not every second of every day
wants to die the second it's begun.

When Autumn kissed the tree,
its leaves blushed and fell.
Starlings took to wing,
oh what scandal they had to tell

The weighted press of measured steps on stair
accompanied by an echoed call to the familiar.
The first syllable of her name severed  midway,
yet it tolled long after the utterance rang out.
The comfort of routine;
tethers of association
snapped under the strain of realisation.
A mocking gift from forgetfulness...

...she left him..

Mechanical body shifts
fighting urges to hesitate and listen to her vanished sleeping breath.
Vacant the cold bedroom,
the chamber harbouring her scent on fabrics, pillow and scantly furnished dresser top.
Each sniff raw as salt on opened wounds.
She left
and left him
only remorseful residues
from the harvest
of three years and five months.

Once,
gentle winds navigated our craft
safely through
the turbulent waters of life.
Then you set sail
to voyage a separate course.
And my heart
capsized
in the wake
of your passing love.

I listen to the day's fall
the reverberations of fading bird's call
and children ushered in for the night, neighbours' cars pulling into the drive, faint light switches flicking on,
roller blinds pulled
curtains drawn.
It all happens in reverse
come the morn
when the last of the night falls
into dawn.

Streetdogs rattle
a drunken cackle
spilling home after hours.
Scuffing pavements
dragging heels and dignity low.
Voices traveling further
than they need to go.
The ****** persist in splitting peace
invading night.
Children pretend to sleep
believing the bowsies are cool.
Wanting to be just like them.
Some will too.

The last swallow swooped a departing circle
spiraling low
over dusk reaped fields of stunted straw.
Corn harvest gathered,
hay baled for winter feed store.
Gold trashed under combine tracks and tractor trails scarring the soil which birthed it.
The swallow's the last wings of a fading love.
The field a churned despondent heart.
The crop waning memories,
nothing more.

Graceful quiescent
bronze ballerina
frozen liquid pirouette
rooted from toe-tip
flowing calf to thigh stem
stretch sublime.
Off-shoot extends
then bends
at knee
runs the shin to
soft ankle twist.
Toe to knee again.
Budding groin
torso flowering divine
unfolding to
delicate swan neck leaning
face in ecstasy
tilting up.
Petal arms reaching
slightly bowing
to tulip cup.
Finger tips
elegantly caress
the sky.