I

Who would be
A mermaid fair,
Singing alone,
Combing her hair
Under the sea,
In a golden curl
With a comb of pearl,
On a throne?

II

I would be a mermaid fair;
I would sing to myself the whole of the day;
With a comb of pearl I would comb my hair;
And still as I comb'd I would sing and say,
'Who is it loves me? who loves not me?'
I would comb my hair till my ringlets would fall
                Low adown, low adown,
From under my starry sea-bud crown
                Low adown and around,
And I should look like a fountain of gold
        Springing alone
        With a shrill inner sound
                Over the throne
        In the midst of the hall;
Till that great sea-snake under the sea
From his coiled sleeps in the central deeps
Would slowly trail himself sevenfold
Round the hall where I sate, and look in at the gate
With his large calm eyes for the love of me.
And all the mermen under the sea
Would feel their immortality
Die in their hearts for the love of me.

III

But at night I would wander away, away,
        I would fling on each side my low-flowing locks,
And lightly vault from the throne and play
     With the mermen in and out of the rocks;
We would run to and fro, and hide and seek,
     On the broad sea-wolds in the crimson shells,
Whose silvery spikes are nighest the sea.
But if any came near I would call and shriek,
And adown the steep like a wave I would leap
     From the diamond-ledges that jut from the dells;
For I would not be kiss'd by all who would list
Of the bold merry mermen under the sea.
They would sue me, and woo me, and flatter me,
In the purple twilights under the sea;
But the king of them all would carry me,
Woo me, and win me, and marry me,
In the branching jaspers under the sea.
Then all the dry-pied things that be
In the hueless mosses under the sea
Would curl round my silver feet silently,
All looking up for the love of me.
And if I should carol aloud, from aloft
All things that are forked, and horned, and soft
Would lean out from the hollow sphere of the sea,
All looking down for the love of me.

Love is a sharpie
Some days it draws good things,
Some days it draws bad ones.
The lines can be thick or thin,
Or long or short.
If you leave the cap off, it'll dry out.
Or sometimes they just explode.
But usually they work just fine,
Although they do smell funny.
You can do many things with a sharpie. Even though it says "permanent",
It'll usually wash off.
Some times, you gotta rub it real hard to get it to come off,
And even then,
Not all of it does.

You're just a silly girl
with a dazed look in her eye
and flowers in hair
twirling around the room
with laughter spilling from her teeth

You're just a silly girl
with the notion that he really loves you
and he will stay by your side
shouting from the room
with love dripping from your tongue

You're just a silly girl
with the idea that people are good
and everyone holds the best intentions
speaking throughout the room
with nonsense slipping from her throat

You're just a silly girl
with a sad droop of your head
and clenched fists at your side
sobbing in the room
with tears dripping from your lips

You're just a silly girl

Do you regret it?

797

By my Window have I for Scenery
Just a Sea—with a Stem—
If the Bird and the Farmer—deem it a “Pine”—
The Opinion will serve—for them—

It has no Port, nor a “Line”—but the Jays—
That split their route to the Sky—
Or a Squirrel, whose giddy Peninsula
May be easier reached—this way—

For Inlands—the Earth is the under side—
And the upper side—is the Sun—
And its Commerce—if Commerce it have—
Of Spice—I infer from the Odors borne—

Of its Voice—to affirm—when the Wind is within—
Can the Dumb—define the Divine?
The Definition of Melody—is—
That Definition is none—

It—suggests to our Faith—
They—suggest to our Sight—
When the latter—is put away
I shall meet with Conviction I somewhere met
That Immortality—

Was the Pine at my Window a “Fellow
Of the Royal” Infinity?
Apprehensions—are God’s introductions—
To be hallowed—accordingly—

Everything you gave me
Is in a box burning in the rear view
Driving through memory lane
One last time before I leave it all behind
There's the coffee shop where met
You walked in it was like like a movie scene
Everything faded out of view
The only thing my eyes saw was you
There's the pool hall where we had our first kiss
The rain was coming down
Looking into your eyes
The world around slowed and I knew that this was it
The love people only dream of
I can still feel your hand reach for mine
I can still feel your head on my shoulder as I drive
There's the place we used to park
And spent hours talking, kissing, loving
Inside these four doors was a world that was just ours
There's the pizza place we went almost everyday
I can hear the sound you make when you're full
There's the bed we spent so much time in
I still lean over to kiss you when I wake at night
Only to find you're not there
There's the place we spent our first Valentine's Day
The docks overlooking the shore
Looking into your eyes
Loving you more and more
As I drive away
I'll leave pieces of my broken heart
So you can find your way to me if you so choose
Call me a ******* or whatever you wish
But I know I'll never find a love like this
Until then I'm moving on
Leaving NYC
For the second city
For a second start
Everything you gave me
Is in a box burning in the rear view
Driving through memory lane
One last time before I leave it all behind

Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
above the traffic
and the circumstance,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You made me sing at my guitar,
a grown man falling to defeat.
Now I cannot find The Answer
in the company I keep.

The game is rigged, we know it is,
in a hustler's *******,
the bank cartels
and corn-fed chicken
descend upon the weak.

I held you in my arms
on a precipice brave and steep,
above the breadlines
and the cannibals,
above the slaughter of the sheep.

You have me writing poetry
about landscapes left unseen,
you kissed the addict on the mouth
and now he's looking to get clean.

But the day is long, you know it is,
forgive me for sounding bleak,
a sucker for
those sad, sad songs,
and that chemical retreat.

I am not working on perfection
in a lifetime stretched and brief,
but I am working on a promise
that for once,
I intend to keep.

See, I've got a knack for giving up,
for feigning inner peace,
I've had my fill of oil spills
and the slaughter of the sheep.

You've felt it too, that burdened love,
the dead-end of familiar streets,
you lay down with him,
habitual ease;
lilac skin now a slab of meat.

The dignitaries come,
the friends you have to meet,
a compromise of ancient ties,
amongst the ******
and the thief.

Words are falling fast for you,
though I lack the skill to piece
all the fragments you paint for me
in this temple of disease.

The race is run, you know it is,
a pace we couldn't keep,
our lungs are full
of cigarettes,
our tongues of old deceit.

The Lie is out amongst the crowds,
but I have no time for war and peace;
I am slipping into
my lover's robe,
into your twisted sheets.

Once I held you in my arms,
I loved you in my sleep,
this wolf's disguise,
those bells that chime
at the slaughter of the sheep.