the day ends
again...

evening blurs
the edges of my sight;

dark violet drifts
of ecstasy
confiscate my mind

I am here still
without reason
amongst the ruins
of "what if's"and
'what might have been's"

of a soon
griefless history

it is quiet here

so quiet
where truth speaks
in wordless, depthless
shadows
of recognition
haunting my soul

deeper than
I can remember or forget
I know now
you were never
here at all

and oh the madness,

the bitter sadness
I taste still
between these sheets

and oh,

the forever violence
of this silence

in my heart

He was my everything,
My everything and all.
He left and I had nothing,
Nothing at all.

He always had those eyes,
Those storm colored eyes I loved.
His brown hair was untamed,
Always a mess.

We used to spend all the hours together,
Never getting tired of each other.
Now we can’t,
Never again will we.

I said I would risk my life for him.
He promised me the same.
Little did I know,
That promise came true.

I used to wrap my arms around him,
My everything in my arms.
Now I wrap my arms around nothing,
Nothing at all.

The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.

The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.

"...a frozen memory, like any photo,
where nothing is missing, not even,
and especially, nothingness..."
-- Julio Cortázar, "Blow Up"

Mirror-mad,
he photographed reflections:
sunstorms in puddles,
cities in canals,

double portraits framed
in sunglasses,
the fat phantoms who dance
on the flanks of cars.

Nothing caught his eye
unless it bent
or glistered
over something else.

He trapped clouds in bottles
the way kids
trap grasshoppers.
Then one misty day

he was stopped
by the windshield.
Behind him,
an avenue of trees,

before him,
the mirror of that scene.
He seemed to enter
what, in fact, he left.