For a short while, I thought that she
Would stay here by my side
As she would wait for you to come,
Passing hours with a sigh

The summer we had thrown away
Was spent beside the fire
She’d hum a tune and play guitar,
Of singing, she’d never tire

I did not know her very well,
But she would like to talk
The only thing that captured her
Was when with you she walked
And sang and played out loud each night
She loved these simple things
She longed for you, she cared for you
She thought you’d see her through.

Just to be frank, I could not stand
The song Norwegian Wood
But nowadays, I cannot help
But hum it like she could

I often think of what she’d be
If you were with her then
And think of silly questions like
Then where, with who and when?

But to tell you the truth
I really ******* dislike thinking of you,
And by extension,
I really ******* dislike talking to you,
So let’s just stop.

Two lovesick wood ducks,
On a large, blue lake alone;
Till darkness separates!

in a wooden old hut which
I'm already standing and sitting and reading
which day my lamp burns there
which day I sit and write
it is there looking out the window looking at the forest
looking at a tree looking at owls and deer

and playing the piano occasionally rarely
playing and playing and playing I look again
in the sun to the moon on the clouds that
have lain in all this and everything again and again
day after day not going anywhere nowhere
leaving I sit and sit in my chair in the hut

17.09.18

September 16th 2018 1:34 pm

The war started between the illegible instructions and chunks of wood. I decided to enlist, well, more like volunteered. I arrived at the camp today and met a few loose screws. They don’t have time to train us, we are being shipped out as I write this in my journal.
I hope to god I survive this thing so I can see her face at the end. She will be ecstatic to see me alive, I know she has her doubts. We can not let the engrish win.

September 16th 2018 3:17 pm

We have arrived to our camp. It’s a pigsty. Styrofoam specks cover the yard like snow and cardboard chunks are blown to bits just over the trenches. No time to settle in. Just enough to down a cup of dirt coffee before we charge in. It’s been storming all day, everything is covered in mud.

September 16th 2018 3:56 pm

Stage one has been complete. We have a wall up. This should help stabilize anything that comes after us. It was no easy task and we have been told this was the easiest part.

September 16th 2018 4:32 pm

The foundation has been completed. There were casualties. Henry, a brave man, lost a hand and had to be evacuated. We can hold them back if our aim is true. I hope there are angels watching above.

September 16th 2018 4:33 pm

There are no angels watching, only devils in the disguise of pictures with the number on the wrong side and the finished side flipped around. The foundation had to come down. Back at square one.

September 16th 2018 5:56 pm

The foundation has been rebuilt. Correctly, I hope. More men have been lost. I know this is dark, but one had a flask on his body that hasn’t been emptied. It is now emptied.

September 16th 2018 6:29 pm

The wheels have finally been installed. We are now mobile! Thank god. We can now trek over anything that gets in our way. It’s still pouring rain. I wish I could find another flask.

September 16th 2018 6:53 pm

Hooks and roll and top have all been fitted and examined over. We may have done something right for once. There’s hope that we will win this thing after all.

September 16th 2018 8:48 pm

We stumbled onto a cache of cold ones. We lost sight of our goal for a while. We are back on track marching forward.

September 16th 2018 9:17 pm

The last wooden peg has been hammered in, the last ***** has been ******* and locked. This is it, it’s finally over. We won!

September 16th 2018 9:18 pm

“It’s about time” was my only reward.

It’s ok, I came out stronger than what I was. I have scars I can tell my kids about. The blisters from using hand tools and the knowledge on how to decipher Chinese disguised as English. Useful talents I’m sure.

September 16th 2018 9:20 pm

Finishing off that cache.

I hear the carve of oars,
I see your palms enfold the wood,
as shards of stars shred
a black and glistening wave.

I hear the carve of oars,
the shore is breached,
we reach dank granite stairs, climb
a tower in moon gritty light.

I hear the carve of oars,
you speak, your turgid cheek
blue-steel-gray, your gaze grates,
my salt raged eyes summon waves and stars.

I hear the carve of oars,
waves rattle a candle's flame,
chill the bed frame, the wet stony room ––
the door closes, it scrapes.

I hear the carve of oars.
I know your lurching gate,
the clank as oar lock’s turn.
You slip the shore.
I hear the carve of oars

Copyright © 2002 Gary Brocks