stimulant jitters
again:  another
cigarette , why not
coffee, why bother
to eat

if infinity exists i’m sure to get there
quicker; if god
is real i’m not going to meet him
in my sleep.  i promised you
to not stop writing;  now I can’t.  
this is the only high
i’m used to, anymore.

                                              i
have been introduced, finally,
to the mirthless dementias
of awakeness,
and the men who strap them down,
screaming,
to stretchers, and to            sleep,
and they don’t wear white coats but axes,
and the axis turns too
quickly
for biblical words
to anymore impact us:
                                               the heels click,
the sidewalk cracks              minutely,
the hungry
daydreams
die
-----------------
[ i
  sleep.
  the heels click
  minutely ]

Finally...to have experienced genuine love!

...a captivating whisper of tender words
...a knowing glance of enduring confidence
...a gentle touch charged with intimacy

If only that lovely couple would pass by more often...

blood stains her canvas
   congealed crusts, fresh streaks
frayed corners and edges
   the tattered toll of pain, loss

how best to depict my love on her
   overlay her with beauty
to develop a patina of care over time
   reduce her suffering to pentimento

her landscape shifts constantly
   with the quality of her light
I must blend to the shade of her mood
   her want...her need

work from the palette of my heart
   in the spectrum of my love
paint her in courted color
   every tone of every hue

brush her being with my caress
   creatively styled to her moment
pastel tenderness...primary strength
   bold strokes of passion...bright splashes of spontaneity

to portray for her a frameless existence
   of unlimited intimacy and peace
but she does not rest on my easel
   and I am merely dreaming of the art of love