supper done
  eyes cast
here
   then
  there
cerulean rain... dropping violet

melodic
     piano tickles
and smoothed out bed sheets
soft serpentine
moves stretched arms
up high
      dried iris and begonias... fall

Sunday
        will also come
  filled with
turned pages
and folded things

songs of shepherds
sweet stark
nakedness
  honed
     soft corners...
   ruby red
places
shudder to
      think
not caressed and
  sweat, and breath laughing smiles and
lips
lingering  
   with eyes
            deeply set
as a rudder
on course
      to...  all purpose, the ancients
        and joy  

              the heart... a bottomless
                                                        place.

Tuesday Rain.

The café facing the busy street has big windows
and I see umbrellas walking by, some of them
stop, fold wings, shake water off backs and enter.

I remember my childhood in black and grey when
umbrellas were stygian; a lady umbrella was a bit
smaller, had frilly silk borders,  was sable coloured too.            

Now they are  all colours but black, cheap and
cheerful a sharp breeze and they turn inside out
and that’s ok; it’s the cheery bit I like.    

During world war two, the German air force
dropped a few grey bombs down into our town,
no big deal, pale flames warmed winter nights.  

In colours everything tends to look good, poverty
too; the hungry wear colourful robes and falling
rockets look like fireworks a festive night.

Theres no use in pretending that I don’t think of you often.
But there isn’t any use in telling you if you don’t feel anymore.
I have no words to say other than
“Please, don’t do this.”
But i will swallow them and say
“Hello, whats your name?”
Your absence is everywhere,
in strangers that have done me no harm.
God gave you a common name,
so that I could choke every time
I meet with it again.
I need to know that I will find better,
but tonight I’ll find home in the middle of a hurricane.
A hurricane
with
a
common
name.

I'm overcome with sadness

It's not the biting sadness
  The choked sobs
that are brought about
by the jolt of a sudden death
or the fresh sting of
a broken relationship

It's not the aching sadness
  The somber introspection
of missed opportunities,
of wasted days
of long lost loves

It's not the oppressive sadness
that depression brings,
wrapping around your head
in suffocating silence
that leaves you numb to the world
that makes you believe that happiness was
only a fairy tale

Rather...

It's the warm sadness
as the tinges of autumn begin to show
and you realize that the summer
was never meant to last forever

It's a familiar sadness as you realize
that everyone changes
and the person you once were
no longer exists, for better or worse

It's the sadness that nostalgia
tows along with fond memories
of summer vacations
of drunken antics
of foolish lust
of fading friendships

The sadness that tells you that
"Things will never be this way again"

But also reminds you that they were never supposed to be

   and that's perfectly alright