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 Apr 2014 TM Wood
W. H. Auden
Dear, though the night is gone,
Its dream still haunts today,
That brought us to a room
Cavernous, lofty as
A railway terminus,
And crowded in that gloom
Were beds, and we in one
In a far corner lay.

Our whisper woke no clocks,
We kissed and I was glad
At everything you did,
Indifferent to those
Who sat with hostile eyes
In pairs on every bed,
Arms round each other's neck,
Inert and vaguely sad.

O but what worm of guilt
Or what malignant doubt
Am I the victim of,
That you then, unabashed,
Did what I never wished,
Confessed another love;
And I, submissive, felt
Unwanted and went out?
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
Jon Shierling
"I fell in love with a fairytale."

Those were her words when I asked why our lives had become what they are now.

The first entrance to her flat, tapestries and flowers and shards of pottery assaulting me as soon as I set foot through the door. A six foot print of The Accolade embroidered like the Bayeux hanging in an alcove. The single rose I gave her placed in an empty wine bottle. She played Yo-Yo Ma on vinyl with something that looked like the first gramophone ever made. I always think of her now when I hear a cello, and whatever it is I'm doing at the time stops for the memory. I will always remember her curled up on that red loveseat like the empress she was to me. We first made love there, on old red satin or whatever it was. Corse to the touch, but beautiful. It was only after the first time that she would let me kiss her on the lips, like it was something allowed after passing a test. She never spoke of it, when or why she let me into her world, a world I had only ever been permitted to sojourn through before. The Kiss hung above her bed, and after she had fallen asleep the first night we lay there together I stared up at it with her in my arms thinking....thinking that I had been searching for this woman forever. I have not been the same man since that night. She became my faith.

You wouldn't know to see it now that we had bliss in this place for five years. Five years of being whole, of the absolute knowledge that we were exactly what we were supposed to be. There is nothing left of us here now. The door is gone. An explosion of some sort destroyed most of the living room. I believe her bedroom was used as a firing position for an anti-tank team at one point in the fighting. Shell casings are everywhere, all the glass is shattered and there are stains in abundance.

Where is she you ask?  

I didn't want to believe what I first heard, but after seeing her face again I knew it was true. Oh, you know her well I'm sure since you were able to find me. She is the reason the front has been extended. She is the reason there is bread now, even if it isn't quite palatable. She is the reason so many more have died than necessary. Over here, let me show you who she is. She's on this poster, the valiant People's Commandante leading us into a glorious future. You know who she is now, serve her excellently I have no doubt. But before you do whatever it is you were sent to do I want you to know that I saved The Kiss before our city burned. You will never find it. And even if she refuses it now, once upon a time she had a different name. Once, when she loved me, her name was Ivy.
From a book I'm starting to slowly weave together.
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
Taru Marcellus
One must be invariably brilliant to tag a bathroom stall
   the throne room of sages

And so it was
   that middle school ***** were shrouded in ******* wisdom

And in college
   some Platonic rebel, a self proclaimed tyrant
enlightened the blind
versed solely in idealism- Freshmen

Post hoc
an underground caffeine ****** relabeled toilet paper college diplomas
accepting the cheapest education afforded me
irony quizzically probed~
               will you ever join the ranks of legend?
                                  somewhere...
                                                        ...some faded wall awaits your signature


And so
   in some near distant future
   I did respond
   to porcelain tiles
   idley surrounding a porcelain judge
               for a ****** time
               call 864-5387 (toilets)
               available for complaints 24/7


I don't think the judge caught my humor
probably too disposed with degrees
College quote- in the land of the blind, the one eyed man is king
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
RA
(35)
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
RA
Thousands of glasses, twisted
like millions of spider legs, delicate
and the lenses that glitter-
hard eyes without a soul. I admit
I winced, instinctively
putting my hands up to my eyes,
for a second feeling the disorientation
and the dizziness, the helplessness
that come nightly with taking out
my contact lenses, before
I wear the glasses again
that accent my eyes, accomplices
aiders and abettors to the expression
of the soul I still have.
Auschwitz, Poland
Monday, March 24, 2014
11:29 AM

from my collection, Poems from Poland
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
Legion
When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
RA
(31)
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
RA
Foolishly enough, you
thought you could run
away from everything, leave
everything behind, until
you found yourself in
Birkenau on your birthday, skies
overcast, and your mind
set upon you.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
12:04 PM
Birkenau, Poland

I spent my Gregorian birthday in Birkenau this year.

From my collection, Poems from Poland
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
Wednesday
Have you ever loved someone with

bird bones
paper thin skin
irises like pooling blood on a tile floor

Have you ever loved someone who
wears their heart on their sleeve in the way of a tattoo

Have you ever loved someone like

you wish their arms had heavy locks so that
you could keep them wrapped around you
until you grew tired of their embrace

Have you ever loved someone like
dripping IV bags
ICU at 2 am

Ever loved someone like
laying on the carpet in pain
watch the shadows on their face change
see the door open and close
these days the sunlight always looks the same

Ever loved someone like
dark circles under their eyes

Ever loved someone like
you wish to wear them like a necklace
have them ******* in a locket

Ever loved someone like
I would take a bullet for you
 Apr 2014 TM Wood
Mikaila
I had a dangerous thought a moment ago.
I have many.
But this one is the kind I would be ashamed to whisper in the dark.
It's this:
Every time I am suffering,
Every time I'm slipping,
I look at those tattoos on my hips,
And even if I hate every single thing about myself,
(Which I rarely do, but those moments do come)
I remember that I have something of you with me.
Something of you in my skin.
And I can't destroy something that beautiful.
I can't hate something that perfect.
I save myself from the worst of myself by remembering
That a part of me is yours,
Sacred,
And must be treated accordingly.
If that is not a terrifying way to love somebody,
I don't know what is.
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