The Everything in the Everyday
I was an experiment.
My ‘feeling hurt’ has made you quite defensive,
You’re angry that I fell in love with you;
I had no right, because you never loved me,
I realize all that now. But still, it’s true
That I must grieve a dream that only I had,
And grow hot in the foolishness I feel;
To know that what I came to hope and cherish
Was nothing in your eyes,
And never
Real
This bayou opened to the bay
Which opened to the sea;
We sat as children in our love
Beneath this lonesome tree
They said we couldn’t know of love
Too young of years were we;
And yet true lovers we were then
If ever lovers be
This spot remains as then it was,
As in my memory;
The smell and taste of love’s first kiss
Beneath
This lonesome
Tree
(“This Lonesome Tree” – 4-21-2015)
From across a far ravine.
An echo in the forest
From across a far ravine;
The last words that you said to me
In memory still green
An echo in the forest
That my lonesome ears discern:
The sound of your departing
Knowing you would not
Return
for her, there were his hands…
for her, there were his hands always moving making or fixing caressing or filling her with desire their lives a painting with his portions done with those fingers colors of passion aggravation and regret splattering, smearing constantly everything he left his life splattered all over her then he left his life
(“Splattered” – 6-9-2015)
i will be asked again today
how is it you’re not there
i know i won’t know what to say
so i will merely stare
again today, green-gray and clear
the same misjudgment will begin:
that there’s a soul inside this skin
because my body’s here
that there’s a soul inside this skin
because my body’s here
(“again today” – 4-28-2015)
Why do you mourn, my rueful friend,
And sit there, bleary-eyed?
We’re all alive and moving here —
It’s only hope that died —
Why do you boil with your tears
That fall so straight and true?
And why do you long for one who doesn’t
Long at all for you?
The kind of trouble that she was
I’d never known in all my days;
But found in new and countless ways
That trouble is as trouble does
Entrancing in her loveliness,
And seemingly so soft and sweet:
I found her virtue truly fleet,
For she, at heart, was pitiless
Our troubles take a certain shape.
I sought, from her, a higher ground:
But when I breathed her in, I found
A trouble I could not
Escape
