Buried a good friend yesterday.
A nice spot; high on the hill
With a view to the Trysil mountain.

His son, my best friend, as collected
As ever, watched the casket lowered into
Homeground, to merge

Over time into the matter of his
Ancestors and fallen friends.
Before the fog cleared and the

Mourners parted, we laughed again.
The way he would have wanted
Us to.

After the four hour drive to my woman's
Appartment, I was met with red wine
And a hug.

The flames from her fireplace dancing
On the leaves -yellow with autumn-
Of a tree nearby.

She sat in a t-shirt uncold, and as my
Shoulders finally lowered, I shivered.
Wrapping me in two fur blankets

And topping my glass off, she changed
The music from metal to Enya; louder
Than considerate to the neighbours,

But who cares? It had been one hell
Of a day, and I'd spent myself
Again.

Spent myself on sympathy and sorrow,
And had nothing left. Nothing
But her,

And a part of me cried like an old man
Who hadn't been able to ever
Before.

I was dead ready for her bed, but
Something... something warm, real, and
Very, very important

Kept my eyes open. How any sensation
In a human soul can blend with such
As comfort, and form contentment.

I set my
Alarm on
Nothing.

Never dream. Plan.
Enjoy the way your future...
Smells. Sense it, then move towards
It without chasing
Anything.

Intend, and the rest will birth itself.
I've seen friends who failed every class
In high school get better jobs than
Us others ever dared
Aim for.

I've seen other friends abandon
******, fight every unmerciful
Second of withdrawal, day by
Day, and win.
Alone.

I've decided what kind of person
I want by my side as I move
Away from my last chapter and into
This. She's here
Now.

In solid love, I intend this to go on.
I hope it'll go on. God, I'm
Looking forward to this going on,
And on. And  
On.

My will is my command.
I apparently know not
How to fail. The bigger picture
Is always
Biggest.

Defeat is an
Attitude.
Victory is
An
Attitude.

She uses the F-word to
Emphasize the L-word

When pausing from her
Whatever to text me,

And I pause from my
Whatever to focus on

Grander aspects of the
Whateveryday. How puzzled it

Makes a young man to cross
Paths with a young woman and

Find vacuum the same shape
As his own calling out for

Substance. I give up some other
Whatever, like someone opening

A door that refuses to
Stay shut; welcoming

The rain inside. Whatever. *It's
All wet now, anyway.

Only gods create.

All of you
That do,
Are.

Sometimes the way you look
At me gives me that cold
Worry you get

When your cat has been
Gone for a few days too
Long.

Then you do something
Like writing I love you,
Sverre in the palm

Of your beautiful paw to
Show me, and reassurance
Scratches meowing

At the door, craving half
A tin and a belly-
Rub.

Were learned
The hard
Way.

I woke up feeling
The way I would
If you hadn't.

Yes, I may get sour, even  
Angry, at things where my
Reaction has effects.

Caring little about spending
Myself on distant affairs,
I am an ambassador of common

Decency. Not some moral police,
But a surrenderer of seat
To an elder standing in the

Aisle. I'll find the owner of that
Dog left out in the rain. You may
Be a brother to me; still

I'll ask you to keep your
Voice down if I see
That it bothers

Others. I've been that guy myself.
A thirty-something-year-old acting
Fifteen, making others change tables,

Or even leave the premises.
I've taken up more space than I
Require. I don't wish that

Retrospective shame and regret
On any of my friends.
I'll not throw a stone at a sinner,

That I haven't already
Flung at a
Mirror.

A part of me needs to sleep
That never has.
The thought keeps the
Rest of me awake
At night,

A grown man reaching out for
Something to be weak against,

Something bigger than a teddy,
Smaller than a bear.
Something that knows, and has room.
That sees, and has patience,  

That whispers against
Some part of my softest, innermost;
That there are no needs for
Control on my part.
For now, I have

Only one responsability:
To breathe. Just breathe
Until all my senses withdraw
Into the comforting shell
Of covers, sheets

And a presence that knows
The language of Guardian,
And sings it to me
Until every shard and sliver
Of my being unfolds
Into relief.

When admitting own flaws
Rather than pointing out
Those of the other,
Compromise paves the road
To shared progress;
Forgiveness goes
Four ways.

Automn opens her eyes ever so
Slightly; earth toned irises within
The green mirror of a summer
Dozing off, her awakening reflected

In human breath now visible upon  
Chilled evening air, and
Lovers' fingers seeking closer
Shelter within the shared

Pockets of each other.
You ask what the doctor said,
But I have sweeter fish to fry
Than worry; such sensations

As the way your skin is the
Softest I have ever felt against
My own surface of scars and hair,
And how I'm looking forward to

October auburns, bronzes, yellows
And sepias. All in contrast to the
Whites and magnolias of the
Winter that follows their blossom,

And the excuses the coldness
In their wake presents to lean
Closer. Huddle up. Warm hands
Under garments, share blankets

With the least innocent of
Intentions. I love the subzeros.
Frost. Goosebumps receding under
A kiss. And another. And another.

You visit me at work.
I kiss you hello without
My workwear staining your

Outfit. You put on hardhat
And steel tipped boots
And follow through

Corridors of neatly demolished
Offices prepared for
Rebuilding.

This is my life during the
Everydays. These rough walls
Are my home away from our

Homes. Now you have a face
To the name of my Work.
I think of us. How

Demolition hurts. How
The clean up is hard, ***** labour.
We have a few ghosts left from

Previous days. Here, take gloves
And a shovel. I'll help you carry.
Then I'll help you rebuild.

Between volumes and syllables.
From a piece of paper
Folded with smitten hands and
Hidden between

Books of lesser interest to a
Young heart in first love,
To the isles and isles of scrolled
Knowledge lost in the blasphemous

Fires of Alexandria, my story
Remains only for as long as I
Do. Punctuations and dreams
That will forever matter less to

Another than their own. My
Story is my doing. My being.
My loves and dislikes.
My failures and successes weigh

Exactly as little as names of
Kings and gods long forgotten,
When printed with other drops
Of the same ink as theirs.

I love my girlfriend's answer
To questions of an afterlife:
*"I hope it all ends when it ends.
I have been given enough.

Give my space to other souls.
All I am; all I have,  
I am comforted to think I only
Borrow."

Have your bad day.
I'll be either strong enough
For us both, or
Weak with you.

These are the times
Of butterflies and honeydew,
Adventure and laughter,
******* of the kind

That makes the left side of
Grown men numb.
Popcorn and sofa cinema,
Good days and some not so.

Go ahead. Have your bad one.
It comes with the package,
And I don't need you to be tear-
Free, to love you.

Stain my best shirt.
Worry me with a frown.
Cry me an ocean of tears, be
Afraid that I'll leave, shake
If you must, with your every fear.
Just don't ever believe that
I'll drown.

Have your bad day, princess.
Have a year of them.
Just make me aware of them.
I'm the knight in white at
Your side to stay.
Challenge me;
I need scores of dragons
To slay.

Viking ground. The belly of
Norway. Music like thunder
Keeping whole villages awake.

Swords, spikes, norse jewelry
And black, black metal
Of the kind that honours

Those who were here before
These hundreds of metal heads
And contemporary heathens.

She works in the beer tent,
Throwing long gazes my way,
That I return.

She took
Me
Here.

Stars above a stage lit with a
Thousand shades of neon that
Emphasize the

Ground locked mist; breath
Of Odin and His believers.
I love this music; this brutal

Noice within system. I love these
People. They seem scary from
Afar, but share a brothership

Within their worship.
Enslaved is one of the most
Famous bands within the

Genre. The guys still join the
Roadies, clearing the stage
From their gear.

I cut myself on the shards
Of the hourglass
I broke open to
Count the grains of
Time spent on equally
Meaning-
Less
Activities.

Tell your mother not
To worry. I know how I
Look, but there are soft
And caring chapters between
The rugged covers by which
I'm judged.

Would you please stop
Not believing in
Yourself?

You're the
Only one
Who doesn't.

My shoulders were weak
From being there for myself
To lean on,

So I let my guard down
And **** well cried onto
Her naked skin,

Whispering between sobs
I'm so tired. Just...
So tired.

Not my most manly  
Of moments. Not the
Least, either.

Not quite sure
How we

Ended up
Without clothes

I hold you
My chest to your

Back
Eyes interlocked

In mirror
I help myself

To your every
Treasure

You try to close
Your eyes

But we are too
Beautiful

To be
Unwitnessed

You lean an ocean
Of raven hair

Against my
Face

And whisper
The Devil's honest

Truth: Everything
You see

Is
Yours

I
Know

Twice as strong
Twice as patient
Twice as confident

Double halves
Dancing

I find missing things
In you

Even your shadow
Is my

Friend

Watching her fingers fly over
Keys and mouse, pausing
Only to rest on her lips when she's
Thinking,

I love her.
Respect her. Adore her;
Deifying, as I do,
Beauty begetting beauty.

She creates as I create.
Seeing, transferring, telling.
Carrying torches for anything
That needs a prophet-

To anywhere that necessitates
Enlightenment
Entertainment
Escape
Elevation.

Her mind and hands are those of
A painter; stained with colour; holding
Reminders like bruises or
Ghosts of kisses

(Deep within ribs that cage
Affection for bloom without
Message; art for the sake of
Itself),  

Of reasons -painful as blissful-
To recreate from creation.
Adapting. Rendering; running
Each impression through
Her filters of appreciation.

She sees with naked eyes.
Listens to the rain from her balcony,  
With Portuguese red wine
Smiling in unison
With lips
Upon lips

That teach her hands to kiss
With the passion of
A loving lover loving longingly,
Drawing; designing; dreaming
Dream into substance.

She knows the language of
Living things, tells stories
With pictures all can comprehend.

My words are merely black and white,
And I lay down my pen and
Watch her

Understanding Nature when
It sighs: "I mean nothing by this,
Other than the deepest of all
Meanings.

All that is,
Is.

Let it."

In a nightmare
I wake up next to an angel.
Wings as white as
Midsummer day clouds

Reaching all horizons,  
Rendering us
Centre of all.

Face; that of pure
Unconditonal love.
Warmth like a mother's
Arms shaped around
Own infant
Vulnerability.

I cry out, then inhale
In comfort, opening my
Eyes to reality's relief;
It is you there,

After all.

But I might
Wear you out

Life with me
Is both relaxing

And so very
Not

Here
Take my

Best boots
Bring courage

Bring trust
And a

Bottle of pure
Adventure

Come lover
There are

Mountains with
Our

Names on
Them

You finally let me call you
Girlfriend. So
I do until I forget
Your name.

I carve our initials
Into grateful trees
Until I cannot see the
Forest for the love.

Climb. I'll catch you
If.
I have arms to save
Worlds.
Growl at me during a bad
Day; my heart is too callused

To bleed from involuntary
Cuts.
We all carry blades; scissor
Hands also reach
Out for comfort.

You finally call me boyfriend.
I am.
Ask the trees.
Ask their beautiful scars.

She tries to tickle
Me. But I just
Laugh.

We went and got lost in the woods,
Didn't we?

Laughing through it all, as we do.
You're beautiful picking blueberries

Like some Eve of Eden,
Not the least bit worried that

We'll lose daylight before finding
Our way,

And cute as Hell when asking if your
Tongue is blue; sticking it out

With your eyes closed.
I brush pieces of forest from your

Shoulder. Somewhere out there
A leaf still smells of you,

The way my hands do now.
I can't stop putting them over

My nose and mouth; agreeing
With the memory of you stating

That we're the most juvenile
35-year-olds we've ever seen.

Lost?
We never were.

Even my doctor says I seem
Ten years younger

Than I did only
Weeks ago.

The five ton cast iron sheet
Hit him above the hips.

His top half survived in hospital
For a few days.

Use certified utilities when
Lifting with a crane.

Don't use a knife for a screwdriver.
Don't challenge a step ladder.

Don't use your partner as a
Lever to lift your own ego;

The half that's left will only
Live for days.

I have sides to me as
Dark as the
Devil. I deal with
Demons like
Drugs;  

Always dropping
One, adopting
Another.
Don't dream of
Me. Keep the light
On.

My heart rooms
A thousand angels.
They love you as
One. Don't be blown
Too far away by the

Wind of their wings
Keeping my feelings
Afloat.

To be human is to be
The good kind of evil
Or opposite.

All shades, all colours,
Tutti Frutti; aeons of
Flavour.

All that matters
Is the honesty with
Which you embrace
Your own multitudes.

Both feet in Hell, head in
The Heavens,
One hand on either side
Of your heart; keeping
You safe from extremities.

You will cry. Oh, you'll
Cry, looking around
To see if anyone else
Has ever felt as loved,

As guarded.
Carried by angels,
Protected by demons,
Kept warm by the man
Who tamed them
All for
You.

My brother was three
I five
My father had
The money to spare

Bought us toys
Unannounced

Nothing big
Treasures yet
Beyond adult
Imagination

Guns
Tiny pistols
One themed Batman
One Pink
Panther

The tired young father
Never forgot my brother's
Little hand around
His piece of innocent
Hardware
Fast asleep

Not letting
Go

So

Tell me if I love you
Too fast
Too
Tight

My hand is on you
Always

Now

Awakened by each other's
Heavy breathing
From nightmares in
Tandem,

Turning wide eyed and
Reaching out to touch
Skin unbroken,
Whispering

In unison: *"Thank Heaven
And Hell they
Didn't get
You either..."

Eleven days since first night.
Seeing us together, you'd guess
As many years.

We compare scars from previous
Love; burns, cuts, disappointments.
Always sneaking a

Peek at the other, looking for
Signs we've promised our broken
Hearted yesterselves

To look out for. Both rather getting
Scratched right now than
Amputated tomorrow.

These are the blind days; the milk-
And-honey contrast to meat and
Potatoes.  

Grown up and grounded,
All we know is that we glitter, and
Test nuggets with sceptical teeth;

Hoping to God and whomever that
We're both plain good to
The other, and not just

Too to
Be
True.

As if it's not
Enough that my
Mother liked her

At first sight;
My cat -who warms

Up to dogs and
Human strangers
In equal-

Just spent the
Night curled up

By her head. It's
Those huge
Little things

That make a
Man say thanks to

Such ordinary
Concepts as
Sunday,

Overcast and
*Morning.

I suppose you had me at "heeeey!",
But I'm still bouncing down the
Staircase of my own heart,  
One step at the time.

Your language is that of images.
Graphics. Oil on canvas. Interior
Design. Always knowing where
Something sits or hangs the most

Pleasing to the eye. I lean back with
Ink and infatuation, under only
Just enough light to write without
Being seen too clearly by keen eyes.

Two superheroes fighting the good
Fight. Saving days. Superpowered.
Telling the world how beautiful it is;
Mothering lovers loving like this.

If I run out of words, draw me another.
When your colours dry out, I will write
You of sunsets and stories,
Images and words go as hand in

Hand as our souls have since all eyes
Turned to the door through which
You floated, back straight, head
High, dotting the i

Of your beauty with a smile like a
Slap in the face of my well rehearsed
Image of 'calm and collected.'
Breaking the ice into crystals  

With one
Single
Word.   
"Heeeey!"

For Billy and Madison.


Brother more than
Friend

Everyday soldier
Hero/father

Nyack, NY
Windows down

Watching water
And its frame

From bed/
Seat

Appreciating all
Except the

Missing of so much
More than

Some*
Own

Flesh and
Blood

Chose peace over
Own victory

I know
The Hudson River

Knows
Too

In our humble
Eyes

All your
Battles

Are
Won

-

Rivers flow
Fathers sacrifice

I don't care if your internet
Is slow out there.
I'm not spending the
Weekend at your place
To waste it on Facebook.*

She speaks my language.
Fluently.
|So much more than
Just ones and
Zeros.|

When we move together
Through the dark streets of
Little Oslo,

Only children don't shy
Away. Black leather, band
Names,

Unretained laughter. If I
Saw us when I was eight,
I'd look up

To us too. I high-five a little
Boy as we pass. Only his mother
Doesn't laugh.

Old Heart. Spiteful thing;
Always jumping in

Head first, never consulting
Brain.

What have you done? I have
Asked more than

Once,
On Brain's behalf.

Seems this time at least,
You're both

Working
Together.

It's the way Petrucci's guitar paints
Itself with one long stroke onto

LaBrie's voice at the
Beginning of the solo,

And the way we both look
Up at each other with eyes that

Know more about Dream Theater
Than most, smiling in new born

Infatuation and goosebumps
Shared, that I know that I'm in

The kind of sweet, sweet trouble
That sneaks in through your

Guard without you noticing; the
Path-to-heart that has been cleared

By little things upon little things;
How a good producer uses

Barely audible elements to lift a
Song into grace and perfection.

Lunch pack made with fresh love,  
Something like soft electricity

Between our skins; relaxed islands
In a carefree ocean. Music, music,

Music. She shreds the fastest air
Guitar this side of the coast, and

I just want to stay. Dig. Hang. Hold. I
Have nothing I want to escape to,

And with the song that will be ours
As long as she's mine, and remind

Me of us forever after, I find peace
In restlessness on the floor of her

Apartment, as if it's her singing
*This distance in my voice

Isn’t leaving you a choice,
So if you’re looking for a time to

Run away... you won’t find it here,
Look another way.

You won’t find it here.  
So try another day.

Let me be your shadow;
Never in your way.

Resting my back against
A back resting itself
Against mine.

What was lifted from my eyes
That made the end of summer
Seem so bright?

This could be a hospital, but
There is good health and honest,
Unpaid care in the walls.

Wherever I am in a room
I can reach out and feel the
Warmth with which

A goddess would sign her
Every most self-mirroring
Creation.

Feeding me dinners, and gentle
Strokes on my arm by my
Side in the

Cinema, taking it easy. Talking,
Loving and getting to know.  
Slow. In and

Out of a place of light in weight
And colour, being asked nothing
But not asking,

And calmly, gratefully accepting
Carresses and other gifts.
Being given to,

By someone who loves to give.
Sometimes I have so much hope
For humanity.

She smiles as if she has her whole  
Entire being in the cookie jar.

I laugh from my spine, as the wheels
In her pretty, dark-humoured head

Visibly turn within some sweet, twisted
Process. She speaks with the wit of a

Secret agent; the vocabulary of sailors
And intent of someone like Skeletor.

Her mouth is an instrument from which
Poetry as the opposite of itself sounds;

From where come words that make me
Either thrilled to talk back, or blush. The

Less you care together, the happier you'll be.
She smiles like that. I'm loving this lesson.

We laugh like there's nothing
That's not hilarious.
We speak in unison when skipping down

Cobblestone streets, on our way to
Music or movies. Like magnets
Through two crowds, drawn

Until interconnecting. Astral athletes
Exchanging tops after a game; pointing,
Asking, learning, relaxing.

Learning, relaxing more, pacing. When
Love tries, everything becomes
Dancing.

Hair the colour of
Crow's wings.
Smiles like suns,
Laughter on every
Breath.

**** each boy who
Hurt you playing
Man. ****
The time it took to
Find a friend

And melt into her
Like a weld, heated and
Hammered and attached
At the soul, saying when
They ask if her heart is big:

*It's dragging on the ground
Behind her when she
Moves.

To H.


I suppose there's no such
Thing as true love,
As they say,

So let's keep lying to each
Others' faces until we both
Believe it's

Something*. Who needs
Anything to be more,
After all?

Learning your do's and don'ts.
Your paces, your secrets,
Enjoying the journey

From no one to someone
As you break my ego's heart
With pints of gold, and silver

Bullets like: "You're not that
Great a kisser,
You know,"

And I shrug as if believing
You, emptying my pockets from
Gems and dropping them into

The water, where they're as safe
As anything precious is, when
Out of my reach.