a railway station with just
three people in it
and you just
walked by
through

one
alone
in bed
with nobody
but you, why
is your breathing
so quiet? please.
and if you want to
then stand up to
walk out and
leave and
return
seeing slow
and pardoning
the bareness of
a new and very red
sunrise

sometimes
I watch it &
I wish you were
dead. but then it
comes up all the
way and I know
that I'm the one
I wish was dead.
and washed back down
to those dead ones
to sit and wait
and whittle my
patience down
so far as
here

even if what I do is not okay
I am not alone
I have my songs to sing
when I sit
and breathe in some sorrow
that passes on an awkward wind
I am okay
I have my songs to sing
and I always remember
that I am never alone
there is always someone
so close not far away
-
don't get sad about it
in the scrawl
that litters my floor
there is no scrawl
there is an eternity
of thousands of lives;
the common sentience
of planets
and stars:
I look up
and I am home

I had a friend visit from out of town
he was a good guy
and what's best:
he got home alright;
he's still alive

we drank so deep from a bottle so thick
and you
looking through the slickness of this mirror
into
my eye

you tried so hard
to get me off
and I told you sweetest things
and what's best I told the truth I
told you what
is true

edge of the bed I had my pants down
around my thighs
and here you are
you are
a seventies rebellion
filling the room so thick so hot
like the stereo speakers yelling
"damaged by you
damaged by me
I'm confused
confused"

we're both speaking to doctors
speaking always better
to one another
but you wouldn't admit that
sooner to be farther
farther to be nearer
and nearer to hear better
my breath into your ear

my shirt was green darling
and your shirt was red
I gave it to you
and then you gave me head

I would drive
through dull cold
through the warm
of tears, over
and down my face

if only to drive,
and disappearing into trees
still driving,
sullen
strong against the heat
to soon forget
over a mile

I will be better
I will be new
I will park in a field
and wait until
the heat
is finished

there is nothing poetic
about walking away from friends
to get a cup of coffee
in the cold.
it is just cold
even if you burn yourself
just cold

is that dirt on my thumb?
it may be
is that a car in the drive?
it may be
is that a word
carried from the wind
to ring everywhere
and to resound;
I don't care

I am not fierce enough
to do and say
what greatest takes
what greatest needs
I am needless wordless
but only not heartless
wan, rye
and mostly stricken
by doubt
of voice
and reason

yes,
reason is generally worthless
a stark collector
with no pardon
with not a kiss of suspicion

and yes
I keep a cold house
for why not wear
a sweater
indoors

Two hands in solemn judgement wring,
Twisting so 'round solid thought
And bound in letter grades is law
All heaviness and lightness nought

Pleasantry found under guise
Of intentions thick and dead
Remembered then by prisoners gone
So slowly and so wrongly led

Leave now, leave
Before it's seen
With heat in air and soot in lung
In greyest sky a sun doth gleam
And in deepest wood, a trap is sprung

Begone you deepest premonitions
As leaves do fall and seas do break
Please now: guard my sacred heart
And never let your hands it take

Should eyes not see
Should breath not fall;
no longer I in purpose wait
With heart of gold, in purpose wait
With heart of gold and love of slate

notes,
when we walk easily and lowly
on an avenue, with a camera, with two hearts
we see and we have seen it
    we breaststroke through a night so
    dark and slovenly as to turn a sunrise purple
    to red, ashamed

books,
when we love properly
when we speak slowly to better hear
the dripping of a warm and raining noon
    there was nowhere left to go for us
    coolly dryly, bookish we sat
    and to a boyish morning, hurtled

will we sit again, as we walk
will we again open those books and laugh

dust can always settle
red as rouge
and in the country there is
an amber wheat
until plateaus of the thickest
evergreen trees that could ever be
like sawdust against moss
- it began a short song
that I couldn't take a picture of
that I couldn't parrot
so I left it in the breeze
to catch the breath
of another stranger:
another companion.

some things
are okay to slowly forget

I like to think

that you like to think of me

sleeping or smiling

the ceiling fan whispers

to me

that you do

your letters
your pictures
scatter my desk
whether I read them
or not
they’re all over

but it’s not all over

even if I am alone

I have that

to be thankful for;

that I may silently

wordlessly

think of you

and thank you

a man

spoke softly

rarely

never painted pictures only

etchings; creeping

flaking soft

white space

slender, black loose

he never spilled

never toppled

what

was this man

what was it

made him

what hour

poured him forth

what pastel day

of which year molded

this man; cursed him

to place him among

hyenas

there are shapes
in the trees
that I could never
describe to you
and I want to

and the sounds in the breeze
that feel the
same

and if you open
my window
I might
be able to
show you,
tell you
about the calamity
of my eyes and
ears
and the sun
may slide
across the carpet
across your toes,
filling you
or us
with a
locomotive heat
like closing eyes
to the rolling
of thunder

open the window
so I can see
the trees,
so I can
hear the wind

my sand
in an hourglass

violence
is a silent cruiser
outside of my window
and a fist-fight lost
by one or another;

he’ll sleep it off
I won’t

--

I don't like to talk
about everything
I can't remember names
too well
I can't get up
too early

but a face I'll
remember

I can
recall their faces
so easily
I don't even know
whose they are

but nobody talks
like there's **** to say
"I'm good at my job,
but I hate it"
but I don't talk about it;
you shouldn't
even if it were your life

outside
a woman shouts at a man beside her
apparently she: always giving
he: always taking
-
she walked into performance
shouted over the music, friends
stumbling drunk
-
noted: string hung from a wall that
looked paintingless.

I am looking at the snow
outside through a
thin sill blind
and still
few things whiter
as from the rays of
daylight but rather
I prefer
the night on the
frozenness.

warmth is bringing those
grass oases and
they are much like
cloudholes through
dayblue sky.

but still it is
cold

and I am thinking
in a summer way
of grass cutting
and flat air
through which
dovesongs may
or may not
travel

rub one out in the shower.
when you go out for a cigarette,
you don't, you won't
stand around
chewing fat with new folk
old folk up and left
what's left is watch a flick alone
flick the light walk the path
around the building
for the eighth time today
because you can't chew the fat
with the new folk in the parking lot
light their lights with strangers
talk about how you
hand-rolled that cigarette is that
a zippo you've got how cool
this is my major
this is why i'm here, why
are you here?
so you rub one out
in the shower.

I have been
unto me faithful
unto me just
and faith
have I
in my own justice

and heart unto you
faithful
and with wings
into soft skies
to wait eternal

and they unto me
with contempt
and with malice
borne in indignity
borne in solace
a softer sky

parting word:
peace among you
to lie to those you may
and to be among those
whose grace is everlasting

for a few moments
we stood
beside a flowing water
shaded only
by barren trees
and the grey of the sky

and for a few moments
we kissed;
dogs chasing
at our ankles
the smell of spring
so strong

and the night before
(it was beautiful)
she felt my face
as it was too dark
to see
the way
I felt

and I couldn't stop
even when she said
"I won't"
even when she said
"We can't"
even when
I was just holding my breath

she told me
how it wouldn't work
and my sullenness
so easily broke so sweetly
into kiss after kiss

maybe I am a fool
but simply:
I love

you knew it would happen
sometimes you're kissing;
know she'll spend the night
know she'll bite
you can't do it
you will do it
offer her the night
she'll sleep
badly,
not till 4:30 A.M. when
you're waiting for 10
and you can't get to sleep cause

it's not her
she tickled you and
you got limp ****
but it's 'no harm done'
you wanted to have fun but you
fall asleep at 4:30
wake up at 10
taking even longer
this morning than you do any other
and you get in the shower
she tells you she's leaving
from around
the hallway corner

the fall
and there is a storm
tall and wide, the planes still go
and the wind is a tool
but the trees are not moving

the sky
red
is moving away
it moves perfectly

it is pouring

the sky says so
and the mists are deep
like the old summer's heat
and there are stones in the soup
just the way that I like

the fall
and there is a storm
and it tells me
where to go

like a preening gull
stood upon the water
or the climbing grace
of the college towers

seeing the fall
and the sky

I sat today, in between of two concrete blocks
light came pouring                  from the bus circle

I was sitting down and I was calmly
and I was calmly        nearly      tired

like from the obtuse dream from an earlier night
couldn't    hear much other than   birds and voices