He stumbles,
She trips,
They fall,
In love?
Surely not,

For love is just a facade,
It’s not real,
It’s not the truth,

Mrs. Waters, she liked the sound of that,
He’s dead.
He left her, a widow of a marriage unhappened.

It’s been a year and a half,
She thought falling in love was like falling asleep,
Slowly and then all at once,
She was tricked into a coma,
Waking up to find her love,
Lifeless,
His body cold.

So, so, cold.

Was it her thoughts, stars, the ones she could never quite fathom into constellations, that killed him?

Was it the heat of their love, the heat of the sun rising, the heat of the stars burning out as the line symbolizing his life, flattens.

I seek to fall into her skin
cloakless.

I sense her soonness,
as I smell rain
with the windows closed.

I have an unhappened memory
of nuzzling her nape,

and my body reclines into my soul.


The oscillating pogo-stances
keep me at bay,
though I feel the brink
of a greatness unsolved.

So I keep an eye open
as I fall through the bed.


My totem

considers her's
                           called.

Then may we
Triangulate-

I here
           You there

And these odd
Angles

Give a third
Point

Four dimensional

Where collision
Becomes

(It becomes
Your lovely
Face)

Inevitable-

This the history
Unrecorded-
Unhappened

Happy union
Of opposites

Of the serpent
Swallowing
Tail

O goddess of priests,
in punishing myself
I found you today.

Tonight you will sleep
in my eyes,
and I will search my
lost poems.


Did you touch the
faded leaves to bring back
a withered spring?

A song still waits in the throat of a cuckoo.
The wasted years!
Do you hear me, walking
in sleep on burning coals as
a penance for the world
going wrong.?

What did I do? I ask my
past, my present, my unhappened future?

In everyday life
you pick up a war with a―
moment in truth.

Unleashing a malign―
half gender― to speak
for the sake of a maker.

You were standing on
a fault-line, waiting for the
unhappened to happen.

I have come from a
faraway land to dig up the
legacy of the ruined convulsions of man.

The faith, a religion the
god were all forgotten when
you sit homeless, hungry under the sky.

All those voices I hear in the dark,
Telling me all the time, just to hark,
I can’t believe that my own icy heart,
Allowed your tears to fall, for my part,
I hope it’s not too late, not too tarried,
For me to say sorry, for all it’s carried

Oh how I wish I could turn back time,
When we were young and still in our prime,
And love like when we danced that deathly dance,
Though through grime and dirt, I was in loving hands,
I really hope it’s not our fate, and all that happened
That the ripples of my cold heart, can all be unhappened.

I hope you see that my intentions sincere,
Were not of some sort, out under fear,
Because though I may have many low tears,
I know you’ll hold me to you, and keep me right here.

Though the past may have clouded it,
I love you like my own, like my soul and dear,
Know that my world without you is bare,
So please know I’m sorry, because I know you care