Come sit with me upon the edge
Of winter and insanity;
Come watch with me the dancing spheres
Alight with our duality —
Inhuman as the cold of space,
And human as the living stars,
The universe has shown its face,
And we’ve shown ours.
For we are everything you see:
The nightmare and the fantasy —
So let us be here, you and I,
As cold and empty as
The sky
“The fields are full of flowers,
The sun is burning gold,
Come run with me, come be my love
Before the night comes cold —“
”My love, I have a different plan:
For days and nights of toil
Can lead us to a better life,
And you to better soil.”
But days and nights gave way to weeks.
Now months and years have passed,
With each new job another score
He swears will be his last —
He loved her, just as she loved him.
But now he just can’t quit:
For I believe that summer knows
What winter won’t
Admit
you shared with me reluctantly
your out of pocket views
on how the world would look if you
were only free to choose
there was an ardor in your voice
a pattern in your eyes
what happened next bewildering
a mix of words and thighs
for what cannot be stopped must go
into the void or past
and what we leave for afterwards
is what will really last
for you were on a launching plan
that you were loath to forfeit
and i was just that bit of fuel
you needed then
to orbit
she told me she was shy i told her i was taken she asked me to come by my confidence was shaken she asked me to come in we had strawberry wine she told me she was shy but i think she was lyin’
outside the realm of
resolute indifference,
she walks among the
clouds and stars and toast
but tells me not
to worry over details,
for it’s her essence that
she misses most
of rainy days and
stormy nights, says she,
there’s little left of
what was Givenchy
but round up what you’ve got,
and bring your graphs,
for heaven knows that i
could use the laughs
The wind is blowing in the trees,
the sky is dark and gray;
The lions here are ill at ease,
and loath to stay that way.
There is a restlessness outside,
a fathom deep, a mile wide —
and we
must be
the minions of anxiety.
Our fav’rite books have all been read,
they’re back up on the shelf;
The lion wants another song
that he can sing himself.
There is, without, another storm,
(inside these walls, those are the norm)
but lest
we rest
our anxiousness should be confessed,
we know
just so:
we anxious minions of the soon-to-go
A dream need not be fearsome, she has found,
But yet be odd and hard to understand;
She runs on, over unfamiliar ground,
Across a strange and foreign stretch of land
The trees are clumped in moving sorts of groves
With leaves of gossamer and mercury;
They point her towards her quarry as it moves,
A sort of arboreal courtesy
But she cannot make out with clarity
Just what it is she chases all the while;
But yet, she runs on, with celerity,
Across one lonely mile after mile
She doesn’t know what has been put to flight
Although she has this dream most every night
I held you closer than
A wonderment of everything we ever
Knew that you were further gone than
What we wished for but could never
In a flash it all was
Over by a stream in fields of
Clover up and down and back and round for
Love love love
Semicolon
Love
if only that horizon that i see
was reachable by means that i could know;
i’d fly across the strange and wondrous sea
to where quintessence lies in
embryo
