transient single serving friends now soon long forgotten
cute little quips and long forgotten lines quoted to each other
oh how in depth our minute long conversations spewing minutiae
sick little bedside Prousts as if we had read any of them
but instead really just quote from technology that
makes us lazy shrinking short term memory capacity for facts
'why remember what we can look up on hip-attached devices?'
lose another piece of soul to post-post-post-industrial post-consumerism
post-modernism-shhhh-pedantic

I've been sitting here.
Reading a book.
Browsing the news paper.
Sipping my tea. (ironically)
It's a little chilly to be outside.
Aside from you...
no one else is around.

You are several
empty
tables away.
Busy in your notebook.
Or is it  a journal?
You haven't looked up,
since you sat down.

I glance at you
on occasion.
but you're always busy.
I had hoped to catch you eye,
but you just won't
look up.
So, I'm still sitting here.

A meadow but less soothing,
a mother but less rooting,
a lover but less passionate,
a wedding but less fashioned.

Deep pink asian flowers,
almost purple, contrast showers
of a mass so captivating,
smell creating, eye baiting,
can you feel their warmth inside you,
do you know for sure you love her,
because you would, after all,
after this, you should.

Sometimes the body is contagion
To the soul.  Stars in their mission fall
To seed the fertile flesh, ignite
Blue waters of sulfureous hearts,
And so the flash is set to cancel
In the flood.  

Sometimes the lip of soul onto seal
Will not hold, before he first knocked
And let flesh enter, thorny pegs
Pricked nerve and pierced bone on his climb
To the rose, yea, some stars odd as
Meteors crash.

In the swan-sea, song-sangy-frame of crib,
Rough hewn words bent mold to scrape, like
Blasted coral, stood half-submerged
Amid sea and sky, for between the leaves,
Behind the eye, there are little stars
Shining like existence.

In a circle world he fashioned green
Blazons about the darkling day,
Fostered by celestial navigation,
Wrote a language for music, on a map of love
And charted the force of green in a wind-
Rose of discovery.

Sometimes the soul is not contained, it
Bursts in silent sound like well water
From the source.  And of men in streets
He saw the pennies in their grumble
Eyes, and of love and its course he rubbed,
Tickling dim stars.

It was his thirty ninth year in that fall
To heaven when the steeping cell,
Refused to push in its tide.  Homeless
And free on scaffold of bone the middling
Man retracted from sun to sink
With the moon, turn-tiding-toward sea
Like a changeling.

And as ever, nor often, unwavering eyes
Sprout through shifting grains.  And as he spoke
Quite rimless, Dylan Thomas was petrified
In undying light, and solid set within a rill
Of reef sparkling in concert betwixt gas
And sea, so becoming in purple sleeves,
This constellation of mute singers all,
Dried five-fingered-fish, bright embryos
Returned to the shell, they burn between the leaves,
Beset the grounded skies and show sprite flashes
In the dark where He has left his imprints, burning
Above and plastered below.  The first rock stars!

woke up tired
drove up
"I'm sorry, but you're fired"

you sigh when you're tired and we're talking on the phone
the same way you sigh when you're behind me
and your huge arms are around my neck
and i have to lie down on the linoleum floor to smoke
so that my knees don't give out

When all is said and done
what do we become
old photographs
in an old slide show
with a distant relative
or an old friend
who gets your name
wrong
once again.

You fed my dreams, like a needle feeds my pain, through my broken veins:
A silver bullet to my heart, your lies ripping me apart.

When I turned, looking for your burned,
bruised, broken words, in a noisy world,
I found silent screams...
same as when I'm waking from bad dreams...

Except when I called for you, you ran.
And when I waited,
my patience lashed, ripping the seems of my skin;
until my love bled out, like it had never been.

                                       You just keep walking. I'll stay. Plant my skin. Water it with this blood. I'll grow. And, I'll love.
                                        Maybe someday you'll see me. And, maybe someday I won't feel, you.