Hook. Line and sinker Aug 17, 2012

   

I might be neck deep in it

quicksand licking at the my bottom lip

but she won't let me drown

 I have her hook deep in me

only I'm not sure which one of us

put it there

 she complaining I stare too much

and yet doing all she can

to call attention to herself

 so I can't look anywhere else

 later asking for a phone number

 from me I'm sure she doesn't really need

 my brain rattled by it all the contradictions

and maybe my cyber nanny is right

 when she tells me my poet friend

just wants to have control

 tugging on the fishing line

from time to time

to make certain I'm still on the other end

 I squirm but I can't escape

and I'm not sure I want to

being hooked and taking it all in Hook line and sinker

is better than being set loose

to have no connection

to drift aimlessly in the high seas

 for no purpose

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with apologies to baudelaire 2015

   

are my eyes blue

as she thinks

or gray or green or somewhere in between

fogged over as if with dream

as I stare into hers

that are so brown or black

I see my reflection there

we living our lives with overcast skies

 always with the promise of rain

 and perhaps pain

rain dripping down her cheeks

 blurring her vision

 my eyes are as blue as my mood

when I wear blue

Green when my shirt is green

a camouflage as I ache to hide with

 or as gray as the sky

or in this season the sullen landscape

 of falling leaves none nearly

as brown as her eyes

 nor as deep

 nor as full of promise

drawing me in

my blue green gray eyes

 searching out the depths of hers

 to dig up what treasure

 I might find there

are my eyes blue or green or gray or something in between?

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They are always there Sept 6, 2012

She tears not look back she says

believing they are always there

 looking to snatch from her

all she's clawed her way to achieve

who would shoot her to the quick

she having learned the ropes

 of the street to survive

and finds she can't trust anyone at all

Then  tend to betray her in the end

 Truth, loyalty, fairness

relative terms no one can rely on

 and she steers to the right path

to some hopeful destination

 often regardless of the cost

with me this silent observer

 condemned to Bear witness

while at the same time

accused of the crime

am I they?

 or are there others

 who must bear the weight of her fears

this string of wannabe or one time lovers

 in whom she has lost faith

 who are they who hunt her at every step

 who seek to steal all she has accomplished

who she sees out of the corner of her eyes

shadows that cling to her heels

if not me or only me then who else

 and what is it we threaten to take

 what are the things she clawed herself to get

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It never goes cold 2015

 

the heart never forgets

even when we tell

ourselves otherwise

 each beat in our chest

recalling it all

pumping blood up

into our brain

 so as to keep

what we thought

 as dead and buried

perfectly alive

the heart feels what it feels

stirring up the coals

to keep us warm

on those coldest of nights

 we feeling it all

the way we felt then

maybe more so

 it does not grow dim

it never goes away

 it never gets less

 only more and more

 pumped up by memory

 which our heart clings to

 it is not what life is about

 it is what it must be about always

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Scalded still August 17th 2012

the August heat stirs it all up to a boil

even when we do not want it to

 even when the heat of what once was

 has diminished

we are all lost in space

looking for a place to land

or an orbit we can settle into

while she shines brighter

and more intensely than ever

 we are not meant to live like this

 being scalded by her own desires

unquenched

 rejected even

the gravity of it all

 either so heavy as to plunge us to doom

or not quite enough to keep us afloat

the August sunlight slices

open the world

as it cuts through these windows

 as deadly as a bayonet

 each beam beating against me

boiling me up from the inside

I am helpless to do anything

But accept it

 suffering through it

scared to let loose of its steam

these summer days

 we once treasure

now ticking out

towards autumn

until the temperature might decline

and this stirring will diminish too

 letting us survive

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Two tickets April. 1, 2014

  

How does she get back

to the life she left

does she want to

 dragged back to the train station

 holding tickets for several destinations

 the place she came from

 the place she might go

 only not yet knowing what is the best choice

 having known one which still speaks of decay

she  fears the one she doesn't know

there is comfort in what once was

 even painful

and yet fears taking the ride

to a place she never been

one ticket in one hand

in the other the scary ride

she needs to take yet

reluctantly clutches the former

 does she go back to what she knows

 or to what she knows could go nowhere

 is she better off going back

 to where the train derailed

or to keep on the train

whose wheels stay on the track

 to god knows where.

 

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Days of heat aug 8,2012

 

the boss is away but the mice

won't play without him

 he is stretched out in the midwest sun

 while we bake here in the city heat

 I wonder does he still check

 his text messages as often there

 as he did here

when the two were apart if not quite so far

 and I wonder if he thinks as much

about her there as he did

when she was underfoot

 does he miss making love to her

 or even remember how good it feels

to have her pressed up against him

and I wonder if he is as good

 a lover as she needs

or just one more in a string

 of trickling up or working things out

and just who fills his shoes

when she needs to be with someone

and he's so remote

 is the next guy adequate

does she even care

just needs someone

anyone will do

 anyone of course accept

one person

 I need no imagination to figure out

in these dog Days with all of us

 in days of heat

 

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