Wednesday, February 1, 2012

The Rain and Cards

What we were once was earnest heat and something melting.

Do not pour into me otherwise

((for you know it too)

but letting yourself believe it is a different matter)

You'll call yourself the eternal snuffer

extinguishing our flicker,

but you may have just reset us---

And so I'll smolder like coal till we become the sun.


Look,

Im not pressing further into a point we both may already know.

Im not washing over arguments we've rowed to the ground

like planted seeds

that will grow into trees

that either blossom or fade to wither in winter.


Im just telling you that when it rained and we played cards

it was simple and you smiled.

((And Im so sorry) but now I have to tell you that at times I can live off your smile

like coffee and my bed and the food we made)

When I heard the rain's finger tips spit against the window

to remind us the outside was present

and the chill flew in

and the smell of rain mixed with your hair.

You sat across from me.

We played a card game.

Your eyes held me.

I was breathing the right way.


Maybe Im making more of a moment you'll forget,

but I hope to hold that once here and now forever.



Sunday, January 29, 2012

what I can't do

I cant write.

I can't scratch the feelings from my chest on to paper
and release myself from all the thousand tears
tearing at my throat hoping to be flooded out.

I cant convince heaven to intervene swiftly
and with great change
I only see the tiny impairments to reality
and the small salvations.

I cant keep a mood.
a swift sea change
more resembling menopause than sanity.

I can't win you back.
I can't win me forward.
I can't choose the right song.
to dance you to and out of our doubt.
I didn't mean to say that.
I didn't mean to bring that into it.
And I can't write.

I've got complaints for days and
the philosophy and logic to imagine all dangerous scenarios
leading me to crazy town.

I can't stop feeling.
I can't stop forming thoughts of what I never should have done.

I can't can't anymore.
For a time I have been seeing the moon more than the sun.
But not the shimmer glow, like the love of your life in a silver dress,
not that beauty of the moon, but the black and blue night
bruised by its failures of not being big enough to fill the whole sky with light
like the sun can.