And baby like so we enter your sphere of sadness and like so we enter mine and acquiesce and allow the sorrow to break us and break us to silence and like so baby we hold each other in our naked embrace of warm damp skin after our love making is done damn it’s done and through your window we float above the jeweled city lights you and me against the world baby floating here where they can’t touch us or know us as we know each other in this warm cradle safe and removed from the unconscious beehive below us below us baby baby mine so like so we smile and sink in sink in deep and secure in our smug sweaty glow deep in our shared sorrow aching so like so like a cobalt hued river flowing placid still like liquid glass through the carved and carving caverns of our head heart and heavy souls and like so sleep sleep darling in our naked nest our sobbing cocoon until the morning comes begging again for light and life and let us begin again begin again begging again to be like so.
What’s happening with me?
Maybe it’s you, do you feel it too, what’s happening with you?
Maybe it’s the artisanal wine we’ve sipped, so so good, so
Satisfying inside and so affordable too?
Maybe it’s this rain and the song that Spotify just chose?
I’ve truly never felt this close with someone, it’s like the lines have blurred
Our merging hearts caressing
You and I sitting here, legs folded, facing one another
You leaning in to me
Our foreheads touch softly, just enough so that I encounter the strength and armor of your skull but also the kindness of your mind
And perhaps your soul
Each message you’re sending so soft and clear and unique to you yet classic like memes passed down from the ancients
Our faces aglow
Gosh, it’s amazing to me
I’ve never texted like this before
I pray to some all-knowing all-powerful intelligence to let this moment never end and our batteries never die and our wifi never hiccup and our thumbs never tire
Your texts are so intimate tonight
Oh damn, that emoji really turns me on, I’m typing so fast
All I’ve known is the known darkness
The isolation from you
The loneliness of me
I suppose this has been the great tragedy, the one I’ve suspected all along
I just want you to know me
Dearest, I just want to be known
I just want to be known so someone can tell me who I am
And, my love, when you know me, it’s true: I will seek the same quiet shelter alone
Find that unused absence of light
Wallow in the lost library
Unseen, blind in the contradiction
As long suspected
In unplanned dreams
In wild lapses
I swear it pains me, it does, dear, as if, as if it were some epic trauma
As if I had once been some exalted god on high, now fallen
Called to this earthy morass of light and dark
Ecstatic pain and agony joy
And I swear
Oh yes on my dearest breath I vow
I will always, I suspect, always blame you, blameless unknowing
Know me, dear
Mommy daddy lover offspring lord
Know me and tell me who I am
Your poetry is quite pedestrian
Like that old lady I saw walking her dog
Along the sidewalk
My poetry isn’t good either
But that’s not the point
Now is it?
All I’m saying is go back to poem school.
You need it.
I nearly passed by it
Co-workers on the beach quiet
Lee kissing Lim
Burning skin in intense city dreams
These are the dreams
The dreams life is made of
The dreams it’s so good to be out of
Fists clenched still
Life presents endless cycles
Endless eruptions of fear elation anxiety
In this still, still life
It’s so good to be out of the office
Neck rolls and shoulder shrugs
Breathe in and close the eyes
Allow the peace to come and call
The depths the soul
The death of the soul
Eyes wide revealing it now
Ah, see them still
Life, why don’t I have this still
Soft sands soft hands
A melting sun
I am enjoying this party
The perfect panoply
Perfume and personality
Casual yet clean
The right display of food
The right dosage of wine
The deep toke
A drag or two – what the heck – three!
For the first time in recent memory, I’m attending an event buzzing, content, finally alive
The conversation is easy but real
It confronts one with momentary pause, open wonder
Before tripping easily into warm laughter and a wash of well being
It’s a gentle eureka, this paradise party
Existing, it appears, in immortal splendor
Yeah – yep – knew it – I fucking knew it! – there it is
Again, the dreaded vibration
The rusted cheese grater of your voice seeping through the thick walls and dense haze of music and connection
The stale garlic of your essence invading my membranes
Drowning me in renewed disgust
Your body enters the room
Again, I find – again!- Fuck! – again? -
Yes, I’m confronted with my own empty inadequacy
My ugly pettiness and low thinking
My fraudulent membership in the tribe
Made ever more clear by this appearance at the door:
Eden has fallen
Now all the warmth flows your way, the loudest honoree I could imagine
(And noisome too!)
I just don’t see it
But they do
Perhaps, were I they, I would too
But I am not they
And they – no! – Goddamnit! – they do not
They take no notice as I fade into the wall
Whatever happened to…
And so now the night returns us to our status quo:
Another party ruined
Another annihilation of innocent vulnerable dreams
Another pint of premium vanilla vanishing
The sad white man awash in another stale white man’s sour monologue glowing blue from the oversized plastic miracle flowing with electrons and Internet
Comfort – diabetes – dull, dull, yet certain
Thanks. Thanks a lot – asshole.
You had all those meetings
You had all those drives
Back to the office
Listening to podcasts
Forgetting what your compatriot said
Please see Part One of this heart-wrenching series for more action-packed entertainment. Love, Bon
I feel vulnerable and alone
Like my mom and dad didn’t love me enough.
And I’m pretty damn sure
You have no idea what that’s like.
I like things in nature.
Things like flowers and the ocean and certain animals.
And I think they are really beautiful.
Because you don’t understand how beautiful they are,
I need to show you.
I want you to think I was touched.
Or a pervert.
It doesn’t matter.
As long as I’m the victim.
And the star.
I hate poetry.
I don’t understand poetry.
So I write poetry.
My wish is you will see the world through my mind and understand just how amazing I am and how hard my life has been and therefore want to smother me with kisses and money (and honey if you’re kinky)
When we would roam and fly the streets
Onward weaving freedom rides, gentrifying in the wild idyl
On foot on board on bicycle
Salt kiss breezes floating our flowing limbs, our gangly hair, ill-worn cloth and nylon
The Point Dume Bombers were active and alive!
Hey, dear valley, go home, we cried
Retreat with your refuse through oven-walled canyons to the unseen hinterland
When we would squawk and bark the repertoire
Limited, yes and at all hours, yes
Mythologizing the day’s frolic in the sea
Where we daydreamed among waves we called our own, origins unknown and unimagined
Calls of awesome, yar, outer, kook
Burning skin in quick glimpses seen
Wanting to linger across the more virgin skin
Unveiled by a quest for color or the blow of whitewash
That touch so far before us
What filled our minds but the imagined adventure and dark intrigue we gathered from the muffled drunken roars heard late in the night through poorly insulated walls of shoddy renown
Dead whales on the beach
Dead marriages everywhere fouling our neighborhood air
We’d witness TV stars at gasoline pumps, scratching desperate lotto cards
Witness that nothing is certain
No matter how high, how gleaming
Your newly-born platinum wall
When we were parrots we saw more than we understood
Intuiting lessons at the edge of a continent where the outcast and the privileged all lay claim to the intolerable beauty no one can ever let in, lest all pride dissolve back to Malibu dust
And back to Malibu sand
Madness conceived when land meets sea, when fire and water collide
As they everyday do in this thin long burg
When we were wild and knew nothing of the strangeness of death
Only the permanence of parents
Their frailty and conundrum
Yesterday morning I observed you
From my living room
Via my drone
Tee hee hee
You sat at the cafe table for two
With your eight year old son
And gazed lovingly into your smartphone
Tsk tsk tsk
I left my soft warm perch
Braved the cold stairway and sidewalk air
And beat you to death with my selfie stick
Tee hee hee