you were human again. i just sat there
and watched you.

i watched you forever and ever.

that moment was a coil in the undertow
made of light and perfect anguish... the mother of all loss
and the triumphant stride out of the dark !
you had mad curls in my eyes, bedazzled by your canny
arrival, all of a piece but not peaceful.... struggling with
the dark side of Beauty, as it pertains to your specific
emotional default.

you were splendid.

i can feel the light burning out -
a mile from it... smell the petunia's " Goodbye, and Luck too Ya "
i swear my mind is coming apart
to find something.... but there lies the truth
and it's ruthless for certain !

i feel like one of those houses you come too
and tell all your friends that it's haunted
and i dare you to stay there overnight
just climb through the broken windows
and pray for your life.

it's those home spun agonies
that rip through your heart like the wind through the trees
if the wind had a heart that loved another
then it follows that the trees
are cut down
all the way down
all the way
down.

I took the liberty of relieving you of your broken heart
and slept through the night.
you are my baroness, and i am the moonlit glade after dark
and the depth of available light.
true love is like watering
the fish.

people don't. but you do.

and you might.

Now, come along and get there from nearby.
I have a chapel for you to breathe in
and smoked walleye to nosh with fennel
and braised ivy, clutching the flanks of my house.
I can offer you a golden block of Amsterdam
stapled to Achilles' Heel, and a punch bowl
spiked with lavender nettles... and the kettle black
mocking the other black thing.

Now come along and get there, from nearby.
we need hardly talk at all, and i would have you serene -
in the fecund emporium of both our outrageous spittoons.
we give water to the effort we make.... we push rivers uphill.
and the both of us matter, as much as the least of us
do not.

we carry the weight of a sprint
like a gallon at rest.

i see from here, that you are sleeping as we speak.

dream this way.

it was like a Saturday had come from Mars
and plopped smack dab in the middle of Monday...
a cool breeze was roasting in the canopy
and far off clouds, seethed with impending
but failed to cross the Rubicon of whatever vector of sunshine
had found us naked in the afternoon.
it was glorious.

and gone too soon.

Oh, how carefully you chrysanthemum
and parlay with whalesong and surgically remove.
you think of summer as a day, and swing from chandeliers
too brazen for prime-time, and too often brilliant.
you caterwaul at the gods like a pinch of rain
in voluminous hush.
i've seen you halt
while spinning
and thought you
remarkable.

and now.

i feel
the
same.

when i felt time had sloughed off the grime of all minutes
i searched for all meaning, and came upon a deck of cards
floating in the ether, a shuffled deck... and a pair of tweezers
to tease the splinter from the mind's eye
just sitting there, on a book stand
next to a boston fern.

it was when i found a place i could not hide from
and occupied the the nooks and fissures of my actual being
that i came to know the fathoms of deep love
and shuttered to think upon my blindness
as an afterthought
about Nothing.