As I looked out of my
bedroom window,
two sparkles of light
equal in brightness hover
in the distance.

One, bursting forth
from a slab of rock holding
visions of a woman, a fridge,
the opening and closing of doors,
a drunkard, a mute, a broken jar
the booming screams of a child,
the thunderous fall of a chair.

In the second, farther still,
an ocean of bright plasma.
Swirling with great force
between white birth
and red death. Flickering
with great intention then
thinning out into
nothingness.

There was a poem in my head
As I woke up this morning
I tried writing it at breakfast
But lost it by noon

I walked through the garden
In the hopes that I
May find a trace of it hiding
By a flower or a fountain

It talked of two angels
And a hunger for love
And a smile that had the glory
Of the planets above

By evening I left
The university disjointed
And went looking for company
In a church assembly

And there I met a friend
Who I lost years back
And slowly I let my heart sink
Into the sea of warm regards

We talked and exchanged smiles
Like newly formed planets around
The same star; A shared understanding
Of the night’s meaning

My friend soon left, and I did too
And I walked slowly home
With an angel in my heart
And a newly written poem

Throw me like
        yesterday's newspaper
I'll come rolling back
       around like tommorow's weather

Abandon me
        to the elements
I'll still cling to you
         like the sacraments

Forget me like
          an unwanted memory
I'll be what you need
          your deepest remedy

Ignore me like
          you ignore the flies
I'll be the one
          to remember your lies

A poem should be light
Like phosphorescent fingers
Touched by Saturn's rings
A poem should be musical
Teaching God to dance
Barefoot on the Andes peaks
A poem should have grace
Feeding the hearts of angels
As they clothe the bare lilies

I dreamt of a former lover
Half forgotten
In an unknown cottage
We kissed

Outside was a field of flowers
Facing the sun
On the warm bed
We cuddled

And then comes the electric
Winter wind
And my body shivered
A deathly blow

My lover has disappeared
I'm left alone
In a dark room pierced
By broken glass

Some poems last a century
Some poems last an hour
Yet others are satisfied
With holding no real power

I’ve done my purpose they say
No need to delay
Like a breeze that cools an infant’s head
Like a gentle kiss before bed