It may look like I'm silent
But don't let it fool you
I'm holding back the will
To say that I love you

i tried to find
a song
a poem
a piece of art
something, anything
that felt like
or sounded like
you

i looked
and searched
asked
and wondered
yet no matter what
i tried
there was nothing
that came close

for you
my platonic soulmate
are one of a kind
a light in the dark
warm, soft
kind, loving
selfless
a best friend

i couldn't find anything
because
nothing
nothing is like you

All men are created equal. He said.
She raised her eyes, and shook her head.

Sickness. Suffering.
Boredom. Anxiety.

      Leave me be.

Friedrich Nietzsche in Turin
The Italians call him The Saint
T-shirt in the Irish bar
A saint is what I ain't

We speak beside the pool
She is blonde and Polish
Her husband plays soccer
Charlotte quietly

The Europeans are more civilized
But at risk from Mother Russia
I'd like to take 12 trains
2033

Don't listen to Bach
Never play Chopin
ACDC a rockin' band
In Dublin meant to be?

         Vive Amelie!

Charlotte is a pretty name
She warbles as she flies
She and Bob in Tokyo
Smoke gets in your eyes

If I died in Paris
You could go to Notre Dame
If I died at sea
You could Ishmael your mom

I want to go to Germany
Have a Bavarian pretzel
I too know anxiety
Just do your best, Ms. Emily Wetzel

Moby **** in my car
Mr. Markson on my shelf
In Seattle Green Arrow
In London Legolas the Elf

Nuclear war is likely
The Apocalypse of Fire
Shakyamuni indeed correct
Suffering is caused by desire

The Zen Center is silent
I bow and bring my tea
Hagia Sophia
Please let the future be

              Correspondingly

I like the fact that Aslan is a Turkish word
It's a kind of Turkish delight
Greece in the morning
Istanbul at night

Oxford pub by myself
The Eagle and the Child
Emily in Amherst
The Nights gone wicked wild

I spend much time alone
But I am not a hermit
She is like Miss Piggy
I am green like Kermit

Can Susan save me?
Can poetry revive?
53 and falling
But glad to be alive

            Clive.

My love, as you lie on your bed
the first morning rose I'll pick--upon
your gentle hair to deck
ere the day's sunshine is gone