They loved each other once.
You'd never guess though;
The way they walk past each other is as if
They've never met.
But for 6 years they were perfectly imperfect.
They fit like mis-matched jigsaw puzzle pieces,
But they were soggy, so somehow they fit just right.
Eventually the pair grew up and they dried out
And the pieces didn't quite fit the same anymore.
They were warped and damaged.
And when the pieces got pulled apart
They were torn.
So each piece of the puzzle had a part
Of the other piece stuck to it.
Fused together;
They couldn't be removed from one another,
No matter how hard anyone tried.
So maybe they still are fused.
Maybe they still love each other.
But no one will ever know.
Because no one really cares.
And no one ever asks.

Am I too always play the fool
a jester in your court of kings
to never know your touch your kiss
or share with thee the finer things

Am I too always be the hound
lieing faithful beside thy feet
to never know your heart nor mind
and never hear those three words sweet

Am I too always be the ****
never embraced by thy sweet hands
and die beneath the weight of time
that slips away like desert sands

Am I too always love you yet
unable here to make it known
then let this fool this humble cur
be as the sands on whispers blown

A promise painted on a kiss
that speaks in silence day and night
and guards the heart it's never known
and keeps you safe and holds you tight

fed the birds
my monday. held out my hand,
and fed them mirth
from a lifeline pun.
blackbirds.
early morning
connoisseurs
i fed them

my monday.
all gone pecked. now, first suspect -
in a ****** of crows. i rose
from the damp. surveyed
the scene of the crime
and bled. no contest
nor are there ribbons given
even if you don't
want one. you'll find
another monday
with a stray
dog star... a crown
for a chipped
tooth.

it will always say  " You shoulda'  seen The Day Before...."  then promptly -
plop on your stoop... and vaguely,
as if seen from three paces
behind stained glass...
Sunday sulks into view
like Dostoyevsky
belching "Hey Jude" backwards,
just strolling down
East, Main street
with an egg-cream
and a fist of
kettle corn.

soggy in his meaty paw
an earlier downpour
you slept through.

or maybe, this just happens to me ?

now then. birds fed,
i wandered off. biting my
upper lip to keep
Christmas in
my Edelweiss
grip.

left the birds a book called " How To Fly "
and they still flew
away.