The bits of ugliness that dot our ways
Sometimes connect us to the ones we love;
Through each new clime and season, every phase,
They’re there nearby: around, along, above —
Unsightliness is something we accept
To know we’ll be connected, in the end,
For love’s the thing. The rest is simply kept
Because it joins us to our kin, or friend.
And soon, we do not even see the poles
Or lines that crisscross everyplace we go;
But hold connections to our very souls
The voices of the ones we love, and know —
But though all this connecting is ad rem,
It can’t bring them to us, or us to them.
I see him walking down this broad and open way:
Although it was a thousand years ago
I do not know —
But how I miss him now, this gray and fateful day.
There is a love lives on when all elsewise has gone;
Although the heart just sees what it will see,
Remains a part of all, this gray and listless dawn.
My friend, you too will live within
Without, and everywhere;
You’re walking on this road,
And into distant desert lands,
And you will never leave my soul,
You’ll never ever ever leave my soul.
My mind is torn by bits of glass –
The things that I have broken –
And I am filled with pools of blood
And scarrings that betoken
The choices I have made, and make –
The heart that’s failed, and aching —
Yes,I am torn by bits of glass
For all I am
Good morning, world.
I have to say
Today will be
That words stay here
Within my head,
And love is shown
Good morning, sun,
And sky, and moon:
I must be up
And going soon,
But take such gifts
As I can give,
And if you can,
“Assent is just another ass assuaged.”
He ran away reactively; she raged
At what a wicked war that man had waged,
But she no longer would be kept or caged.
For he’s a fool to think that he would find
Some special spot of welcome in her mind,
Inviolate is how she is. In vain
Will he approach her castle walls again.
More bellicose he grew, within this bar,
To try to shame her, and regain control,
But she has come too far, too fucking far
To lose that to some man without a soul.
In vino veritas. It’s understood:
He’s shown his real face, and it’s no damned good
“You take peace where you find it,” you would say.
So much comes back to me of that one day —
Our little girl, worn out from hours of play,
Had made a pillow from a bit of tree;
The dirty beach was bare, except us three,
And life was all that any life could be.
“A storm is coming on,” I said, for gray
And threatening clouds were heading in our way.
The soon-heard thunder didn’t fears allay,
So I picked up our daughter, carefully,
And walked back to our car, there, by the sea,
As she slept on, relaxed, and worry-free.
You take peace where you find it. – That is true:
But I lost peace, and her, when I lost