Your authenticity
Is so cliched
It makes me question
Your authenticity
Monthly Archives: January 2015
in the moment
hold me close
keep watch
and remind me always
of tonight
this ease and flow
in the warm breezes
desserts we share
with no calorieeses
I couldn’t love anything more than I love you now
in this moment
I couldn’t love life, god, you, me,
nor whatever god wants to be
more
I couldn’t love history and all its agony and disease
nor evolution nor the seven seas
no, I couldn’t love them more
my cells are not equipped
the butterflies have flipped
every move and perfect breath
another step from perfect death
keep this with me
never let me forget
because at times
too many, you bet
I fear upending
the up ending
is what life has in store
forever and ever
and evermore
Alarm Bells Are Ringing
Somewhere in this room exists the kernel of our mutual betrayal
The faded breath of the fantasy, the faint trace of a dream for one who should have never slept in our bed
I don’t know who encountered it first nor how nor why nor why we can’t find it now
But the silent whisper in our minds still echoes and a seething hate is born
So that every mistake one makes in the dishwasher or with the clumsy toothpaste cap
Escalates into napalm blasts sprung deep from our diaphragm, seeking, soon finding the targets back deep in the soul
I agree with you that I’ve lived my entire life as a midlife crisis
Yet nothing prepared me for our slow grinding agony, our actual crisis at midlife, our soap opera better mocked when it appeared on tv or in the tabloids
There will be no ponytails or Porsches
Until this is all over
Sadly the end feels as elusive as this kernel we hope to find and squash out
We know somewhere in this consciousness it’s done but we require the planting of that actual seed
The suffering of emergence, the revelation, the mutual deaths of our pride
It’ll be the last thing we ever share. And there’s respect and closure and real life in that
Help me end this with you
Fading Faces
How do I tell you this class picture day
Some will not make it through?
How do I encourage you to hold them now
Every last yucky one of them
Carve them deeply into the folds of your mind
Produce high fidelity remembrances of the joy you now share, despite the unsure jabs you throw and absorb, as you stutter-step-stumble to find some sense of place in this wild order of things?
So when that moment comes long from now
Not so long
To crack the covers of the album
Or however one does these things these days
To encounter your hair and missing teeth and sloppy clothes again
You can enjoy those now gone
Again as real as before, or nearly so
Because, my boy, some won’t make it through
More than you’d imagine
In the blink of an eye
On The Scene in seven haiku
Red steak and rare wine
Cold rain screaming its desire
Lust, cafe, winter
Heavy pour of wine
The next dose warms their spotlight
Queer looks, queer glances
Converging pathways
Choices guessed at in a blur
Journeys made of wine
The hand cups the breast
As if caressing fine wine
Preserving bouquet
Soft silk on the skin
Like sand streaming through fingers
Their moans, deep red wine
Night ends like stale wine
Decanting hard memories
Please escape with me
Amble on the road
Don’t let the hitch in your stride
Reveal drunken wine
