Falling through space
matter reflects the light
from a failing sun.
Here,
between the now and the then,
we slip past these gates,
provided a toll
exchanges
hands. From us to
them.
From them to
us.
Teach, or preach
of the wonders
around you.
If you can find the
words.
If you can find the
time.

There was an old man,
who had a sinister plan.
To take his own life.

It all basically happened in Vegas,
Which is to say it was outrageous.
But when the car pulled away,
and we examined the remains of the day,
it turned out what most of us had was contagious.

I remember having to break
the binding so I could see
the full image.
I remember the pools of dark
shadow defining the world.
I remember the pithy banter,
long before I knew the word
was pithy.
I remember the smell of it.
The wonder.
I remember how fragile
the two staples that
held it together were.
I remember putting it
down and looking up
at my Uncle and telling him
that one day I was going to
be Spider-man.
Perhaps I remember best
him looking down at me,
smiling his knowing smile
and saying,
“Yes. Yes you will.”

The boundaries between dreams
are made up of the finest strands
of silk and carelessness.
One tends to flow into the next,
without elegance.
Without pause.
Without apology.
Someone told me that
life was like that.
I don't remember who,
and perhaps that says all
that needs to be said
about my opinion on
the matter.

I always liked fall.
It's a better word than
Autumn.
Leaves fall.
We fall.
I fell.

We do not glide into love.
We have no control of it.
I did not glide for you.
I fell for you.
Closed my eyes,
leaned backward,
took a deep breath
and fell into you.
Into us.

There is a hill.
It stands between there,
the who I was, and here,
the who I am.
It is large, it has odd
lumps in it and it smells
of leather and flowers.
Like spices and fruit.
Sin and altruism.
It smells like your hair.
It smells like your neck.
Like your skin.

I have long since landed
but every time you smile,
your slow and wonderful smile,
I can feel the weightlessness
of the ****** thing.

I will always fall for you in
the fall.
I don't care for the
vagueness of
Autumn.

You told me you hated me.
Then you told me you loved me.
That was the first time you said it.
I had always heard how close
those two feelings are.
Love & Hate.
(The ampersand is fancy.)
But you said it.
“I hate you.”
“Why?”
“Because I can't stop falling
in love with you.”
I should have laughed.
I should have bristled to
mark how silly I thought
that cliché was.
But I didn't.
I danced in place.
I gave the wall next to me
a high five.
I never do that.
I believed you.
I actually believed you.
How remarkable is that?