my wife watches tik tok in bed
sounding like she is trying
to tune in a radio to someone's life
so many voices fading in and out
or maybe a spirit box with a message
from the other side

I'm with Johannes Gutenberg
some 570 years behind
the smell of the print as much
an enjoyment as the words inside
the book I am reading
about his life

we lie
a respectable distance between us
centuries apart

she pirouettes on the edge of shadows
dancing in the light
danger lurks in dark corners
beauty unappreciated
the only colour in the room
seen only as a meal
begging for the trap
of silken ropes tied tight
around a beautiful body
so life can be snuffed out
I take my shower and watch
should I intervene
or let nature take it's course

she wears a t-shirt
two hands printed
exactly where I want to put mine
jeans must be sprayed on
so impossibly tight
hugging a figure
I can only describe
as voluptuous
but those eyes
I cannot meet as they stare
right into my soul
piercing through me
defying my inappropriate thoughts
though for all the world
she invites them
thankfully the bus came
and I left her
advertising whatever it was
I hadn't noticed in the first place

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

-

~since the Past is a memory
supported by evidence  
of what was once "now"–

~and the Future is a mental
projection forward since it
has not yet happened–

figuring for the nerve impulse
latency to the brain, which
in turn must process
this information—

we therefore experience
the Present in Past tense,

relying upon the Future
to fuel a continued
existence.


Meanwhile...


s jones
2021


.

I throw more words
into the emptiness of the ether
like a whale calling for home
an unheard song
one day forced
into extinction

I wish I had learned to play an instrument
there is an untouched part of my soul
that will never have a voice
a chance of expression
I can never be truly lost
in music