After the pain of the human body,
silence arrives,
not good, not bad,
just without noise,
without splendid glory,
filled with unfinished thoughts
of those who loved or were loved.

Crossing through an amorphous gate,
their material vessels vanish slowly
in the rotting smell,
inevitable deconstruction
in the same irreversible order.

The red liquid comes back
to the primordial elements,
to Earth, to Air, to Void,
everything and nothing.

We who are still breathing,
create new interpretations
to be more distant than close
to the elusive insight.

Clearing our space
we put various convictions
in our grief drawer, suffering,
looking for consolation—
against the final revelation.

The cosmic conscious dust
returns to the circle of life.
Does it matter what comes after?
Just stay now,
open your arms,
embrace a tender emptiness.

Words activate something in me
even if I’m just thinking, not writing.
So I soon find myself back at the keyboard.
It seems that my life’s been a series of keyboards.

My motor’s always running—I idle fast.
But I’ve been untying my intellectual shoe-strings recently.
Dissociatively avoiding intellective pursuits,
and embracing entropy (since school ended).
It’s been relaxing—I’ve felt new to my body.

There’ve been happenings lately,
particularly in the nocturnal theater of romantic nights.
My bf Peter’s here—trying to look impressed by an under-grad degree. He’s a pretty good actor—for an amateur.

We’ve been interrogating the richer aspects of love,
testing it’s configurations you might say,
with constant motions and lush indulgences.
We’re savoring this temporary freedom,
devouring it, like mindless carnivores.

Peter lives in Geneva, you see, while I’ve been in New Haven.
If I’ve learned anything, in my ivy league, senior year,
it’s that you can’t cheat closeness with virtuality.
He may have a new job in New Jersey and I'll be in Boston.
I've already calculated a year’s travel expenses from
Logan to Liberty and back 52 times = ~$62k. Make it so.

I'm an enumerator, I count everything
—the left facing croissants on a tray,
the days Peter and I have been apart,
and the modicum of hours we’ve had together.
I’m somewhere on that obsessive-compulsive bell curve,
and I’m a Libra, uncomfortable in an uneven world.
Perhaps there's no shame in this.

I wonder sometimes, when we’re separated, if we’ll still work, when
we’re reunited, and then, like sunlight can suddenly define shadow,
we can see that it does.
That love is more potent than wine.

I dream of things I can’t have—yet,
like the life I’d like to live—someday.
Hey, I’ve something to look forward to.
.
.
Songs for this:
Love Train by The O'Jays
Easy by The Commodores

A system that bends the truth
As well as the lies
Would provide
Quicker communion
On which
Most rely
But we can't do it
Like interstellar travel
So it's increasing
Space junk
As capacity
Unravels.

I wish I could sleep
but I ache,
on all sides,
and on my back,
I see the haunting
that you bring me
And the refusal,
of disappearing.
And a silent tease,
in a blackly sight
of a sudden freezing,
of a jumper's fleece.
A demon's wishes,
of remembrance
of tanned flesh,
and daily blesses,
The snake that hisses
has now became me.

What I held inside,
couldn't slash,
just a butter knife,
to all their storms.

Butterfly wings open wide,
potato that has been mashed,
A man grieves his dead wife
amongst the hungry worms.

Locusts, seemingly fly,
never settle for a clash
of a storm that settles,
Only a child senses the harm.

My doctor wanted to give me the results of a blood test so asked me to come down
As I sat there listening to him meandering on about cholesterol, blood pressure, vitamin deficiencies
I got fed up and cut in on him suddenly
"Look Doc don't sugarcoat it, how long have I got ?"
He said "What do you mean, you're still in pretty good shape, you have a few things you gotta watch...
Again I cut in on him "I appreciate you're trying to break it to me easy Doc
But y'know I don't mind, as long as I...as long as I just get some nice big fancy disease with a big fancy name on it
Not one of those ould common garden type diseases that everyone gets
Something that'd make them all jealous envious
They'd all be looking at their own boring little diseases saying
"I wish I had a disease like his, with a big fancy name on it
Not this ordinary little disease that I've got
They'd be all looking over thinking
He must be a very special type of guy to have gotten such a big fancy disease like that...

The ****** of a doctor, he went and charged me 60 Euros
Now... now that hurt.