abandon your lost innocence
and come to be my lover
maybe in that instant
you will know another

cling to me so fiercely
that we no longer wonder
what it is that makes us
feed the hungers

so meet me in this mystery
hold on to me tighter
abandon your lost history
and let us light the fire

a hot night, a cool breeze
static down the wires
forsake all your promises
throw them on the fires

can you feel the heat
sever the last fetter
we will not be free until
we get lost in our desire

i burned off the brush pile today
the last of the fall chores
although we have had a first snow
as well as a killing frost
i wanted to wait until our woods
were not so dry, it has been a dry
summer and autumn

watching the sparks fly
i turned back to look at the house
and saw you standing at the
kitchen window i waved
but you did not see me

watching the house lit
in the dark night, warmed
by the bonfire in the chill
i felt a deep contentment
as though it would be this
small moment in time i would
wish to keep with me forever

for it is these moments
out of which a life is made
without room for regret
for regrets are useless
standing before a bonfire
on a clear, cold winter night
a life of these small moments,
and i was glad of it

i chanced to see a
tin foil car
in the library parking lot
yesterday

the carpet, molding, side panels
all removed
tin foil
had been duct taped
on every surface that
was not glass

even the shift ****
and the steering wheel
wrapped and wrapped
in tin foil
a Volkswagen Faraday cage

i searched the faces
of the people about me
would it not be obvious who
would drive around in a
Faraday cage
listening to voices
chasing around
their mind

tin foil car
reading Julian Huxley
and muttering about telepathy
or reading Faraday to get rid
of those nagging radio-frequency
electromagnetic radiation signals
in a hollow conductor

but, then why leave the radio in the car

the snow has melted
in a midwinter thaw
exposing all the lies
you left so carelessly
in the garden
i see them scattered about
before the breeze
as i look out the kitchen window
i catch them in the yard
trying to pretend that
no one can see them
where they rest.
something has led us
to this day
chasing your lies
out on the lawn
cleaning up after you
(again)
but if we left them
until the spring
what kind of bitter
**** might grow
to choke the garden
with their nettles

i.
no love songs, now...no lost, no forlorn
no love songs to the mourn
awake (too late) mind racing,
words floating images roiling...
a poet's heart made empty,
boxing shadows in the dark,

a broken dreams club
a bell echoes

ii.
(like a boxer past his prime
sitting in his corner head hung, bowed,
slips his gloves and examines taped knuckles
as though they, too, have defeated him)

a bell echos
a broken dreams club

iii.
the muse abides, and, perhaps, at least
the poet may regain his voice but for now -
no love songs, now...
no laments, no elegy

a bell echos
a broken dreams club

iv.
every poets' muse -
fall in love, absolutely, true love is, for him,
the embodiment of his muse, indistinguishable,
the goddess, manifest in her absolute glory
and the woman, made her instrument -

a bell echos
a broken dreams club

v.
*what do i see?
a bowl with a quarter and a pocketknife
a lamp
a clock with dull red numbers glowing
a book of verse
and in the distance

a bell echoes
a broken dreams club

begrudge not
the time of others,
for this, too, shall be taken
from each, expected or surprised,
that from vast indifference
we have sprung
and so, shall return
thereto, with no pity, nor hate,
neither even
gratitude (if there could be such
a thing)
for it is the indifference
to our own fate
which might, eventually, make
all things, even this loss,
bearable

I.
time to hold, but i am falling down again,
as i call out your name three times,
and a rooster crows, somewhere,
and i am now laying in the dust,
of the road, beyond the wall
that leads into the square

II.
and there are lots of people, who are now
gathering in there, i can see that
they are angry, angry at someone,
maybe anyone, maybe me,
and maybe you, so
i call your name
as the rooster cries again
cries again

III.
but i have fallen, in the dust, on the road,
and i called your name three times,
i can hear the dogs bark at the
sound the crowd makes, in the dust
of the square, beyond the wall,
***** loud angry people shouting,
dust rising all around
your name three times

IV.
and i do not want to die, that is
nobody wants to die, and yet here we are
lying in the dust, and in the dust, and
fallen away, but all we have, for
we have all fallen away, now
and the rooster cries again

V.
and, i know now, what i have done
what have we done, all of us done,
and there is a great nothingness,
and there is an eternity, a darkness
and there is a day, and in fullness
and i know that i called your name
three times, what i would not have done
and i break down and weep