“never lament casually”

Leonard Cohen


the serious are plenty burdensome,
so if the flight delayed, or the device batteries,
moments away from recognizing that
0% is still a viable digit with a special meaning,
these, none deserving of deploring the human condition

but the weight of leaving her in cold Montreal,
while old promises made, demand a presence in L.A.,
freezey veins, icy cracking inspiration attempts in vain,
all the unrecognizable for crying out loud verses on a
cocktail napkin scribbled, watching ink letters wet melting

your wants simplest, fireplace warmth snap cackling
pop love songs verses for her, the sheets of her dark skin,
silken on your tongue, the wetness of her Oh’s,
left a connect-the-dots map from your nose to toes,
but her fingertip markers, now a thousand miles away,
busy throwing up to the sky, hands filled with leaves of
crisp falling colors assortment, only the colorless no’s left

they play a tune you wrote years ago on the lounge speakers,
modified, wordless, so it’s innocuous, background harmless,
this axes paper cuts on your private places where the songs get
birthed, and now your whole package is tonnage measurable,
the lamentations serious, serious constellations, etching a new song

<>

“for the relearning is the crown jew-el,
that jesters rob from their kingly masters,
pride in love is the fall season preceding
Canadian winters, always thinking
you know better, be better at keeping warm,
this time which is the next time

you cannot learn from love,
cause it’s twice, two times,
never the same,
past lessons ain’t no prologue,
the body is maybe in the wafers,
sometimes vanilla,
sometimes chocolate

and the epilogue is
100% of the  poem~songs
that I loved writing
and hate remembering”

For Leonard: Two Years On (11/7/16)


don’t patronize, he laughs,
don’t want too much praise,
might go to my head,
which is still residing in Montréal,
ville de ma naissance

well you know, Natty, our tradition~prohibition
against excessive eulogizing (hesped),
and I know too,
some traditions you respectfully disrespect,
so try to be mindful,
wax not overly long

a suggestion by our mutual master songwriter,
follow the Song of Songs model,
write of new love,
born and reborn,
and borne
from the collection of beloved songs ancient

“His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend, O daughters of Jerusalem”
Chapter 5, Verse 16

kiss the comforter, that unmistakable gravelly voice chanting,
smooth anthesis, lips raining down blessings,
from places heard but unseen, that yet flutter the spirit

come to me, thy beloved, thy image mirrored,
our missing part, bare the lightness,
pour it into the crack,
that fire creates
when lips meet and sing a song of unity again
continuously perfected

go downtown, on rainy nights, when only few venture
to the venue, find the small bars with a stool and a spotlight,
smoking out back, the sound system half-busted,
where the tryouts for brave are held, keep those names,
make a list,
for these are the voices of angels hidden among the living

singalong, see the notes rising to glory bound,
clothed in shiny stainless steel, golden bronze,
metals of man and earth, forged formed,
for who needs fanciful gold and silver, soft and bendable,
earth presents, they’re over praised, 
 it’s on the base bass that the tower of love is founded,
and not just for the gifted

come my friend, the schooner captain^ has reserved your place,
with shiny eyes come to the new Jerusalem where poets rule,
and sweet lips all, only speak, in a united tongue,
only love songs