love, like life, can be so painful at times that it twists and turns and we yearn. it confuses and bends and stretches. it comes unexpected, it leaves if neglected, sometimes not. sometimes it thrives regardless, like the weed (which is just another name for a flower that some would say is 'unwanted'.) But whether we want to love or not, or to be in-love, we are stuck with it regardless and there is no getting around it. One can be like Penelope from the Odyssey, waiting for her lover hanging on to only hope where perhaps there is no sign of it for as long as twenty  - an endless tableaux and a folly to a love that is perhaps impossible - or not. Who can say. What i do know for sure is that where there is love there will be happiness, there will be joy, and there will be grief.

late march, 9.42 a.m., 2008


the write way | nonsense poem, no. 2

Les choses que je veux te dis sont easy;

plus facile but silent she

fearing he would not comprehend,

"Encore!" she said. "C'est le voila!"

So further she explained:

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thursday morning

So it is I cannot stop

the repeat strobe of

your eyes unblinking almost overwhelming pale grey

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I did I did not want I did want
to dream what I dreamt have been dreaming
back and forthteasing with your help
So casually you enter lightly my thought
my bed my bed my bed

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the last time

The last time was on the corner of the highway and your street.
You wore a blue-ringed t-shirt, a pair of denim cut shorts,
changed because you came
to see me off,

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begin march

Don't say that you don't because you do.

Say that you won't all you will and yet still

I can sense the flight of the bird as she heads northward

a missive in her fragile-boned beak it reads, "Man is in love...and loves what vanishes."

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unsent letter no. 2, february 22nd

Today the weather is changeable – first blue, now grey.
The sky tears occassionally – sleet on the window.
The goddess has become a real ice-bitch marking
the morning the sky cried sheets of rain and I thought of you.

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first kiss

This tale relaxes to a soundtrack –
Bach’s solo cello, G-major.
The sound and feel of your kiss – the surprise and magnificence of it
~~ the poetry in the moment.

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what you will never know

Just as you forget I remember
a criss-cross of promises, gleaming plait,
secured at the ends with a silk-indigo ribbon.

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a steady course

Only you would be here –
running toward, not from, the body’s bright-red flare.
It screams of some emergency.
Such white-light signals – the brain snaps, crackles,
hisses spit-fire lightning.

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the poet going the other way

It is a childhood rhyme;

Hiawatha didn’t bother too much
About Minnihaha and his tender touch
So he took her to the silver stream
And he whispered things like she’d never seen…

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time indefinite | nightstars fallen

Time does not end.
The indefinite future is predetermined - and me, no Calvinist, yet...
There is no way to rewind to this or that moment –
The X – Variable where I am sure I did it all wrong
only to get to the Y because I do not understand.
I have turned this over & over –

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madison & 35th

It wasn’t what I expected of you.
The day a miserable fog of Manhattan misery.
I bought for myself a gold ring to break the spell of you.
Hours spent cutting knife-like across the page:
I shred you to bits – tore our love to pieces
until there was nothing left but disjointed words
meaningless and true

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4:32 a.m., august

One day and your whole life changes.
One day and that’s it.
Some snap judgment concerning this or that thing.
You’re so sure you are in your love; my lover, you say.
Secrets whispered through the wires, codified, you are electric

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parallel lines

Euclid is laughing now. Me and my geometry.
My vectors on a plane. Two, that day, I tried to explain.
My naivte, you knew it all along – me and my insistence.
Those parallel lines, then run ad infinitum, I said.

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as you like it

Quick, Shhhhh, do not say it.
Do not hit that panic button
the one that seeks an I love you
the quick carriage return, the mirrored signal flash back
between my balcony and yours

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two words | brick hijab

For you only I drop this hijab: for you only, I let it all go:
modesty, privacy, morality? Is what we do
then lacking in all value. What would Kant
make of this? Would he too partake or would he
say Do unto others as they do unto you –

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two words | throbs, love (from Crazy Cock, book dipping)

Such things I would do ~
overcome this shyness in a moment
   show my true trust
there is nothing I would not be
to keep this love, I dip, I dive

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arbitrary hop-scotch (time)

See how easily we slip into the soft sweet language of lovers
tongues that tip-toe wrap before the full-on
of each word that comes so easily so hard…
miss we two I do me-you your sweet pea
              such things
they amaze and we do as we do

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two | visiting moon ("surrender")

These nights the moon visits with such alarming regularity
hangs taught on tensile wire gainst the nights dark scrim.
She follows wherever I go –
I am with, I am without you
I carry her when I come
Me and the strawberry June moon

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two | mown grass (moan grass)

Perhaps I should have kept it, held it as I hold you –
close, closer, a close secret to my breast.
Things felt when we walked up the hill sides-hands bumping
I caught the sublime scent of you for the second time
and you were redolent of gentle hills of mown grass,

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