There are not enough words
to draw you
there are too many words, and
the truth lies, somewhere
between layers of cake and dissidence
and your smile
that juts in, without
invitation
like sunshine
Tag: coffee
Yes
I loved
I was patient
I care(d)
but
I can’t fit that girl
you have an image of
that sedate, smouldering
piece of hot property–
your fantasy–
she is not me
so, be well
I will be here
swinging
with abandon
from my chandelier
go
the gulls are crying
go to her
because
she needs you now
Anger in the air
We talked of happier days
Leaves started falling.
Measure twice, cut once
She was my biggest fan
when I was not even sure
of my words, always failing me
to get what was inside
on the outside
I was her biggest critic
(there was a time)
when I saw only anger
my way of grieving over a life
that could not be reversed
Here I am
twenty years past
thumbing through volumes
rifling over fabric scraps
to find a pattern
to answer questions
and all I see is love
through the eyes
of the mercy of time past
how she took reams of my words
sharing them
sowing them like seeds
then dead at 56
we were out of time
and any chance to bridge gulfs
and sew seams, but I remember
how we had pie and coffee
and laughed
my eyes are brown
yours are blue
that’s good too
this poem needs work
it’s true
I planted seeds
that never grew
I woke up blue
I spilled my coffee
1991
there were consequences, and
there was residue;
1991 was more than our hearts–
It was a shroud, a relic
something to be compressed
and worn around my neck
feels like summer here
sweating all our regrets
drinking gallons of hope
sunshine breakfast
anxiety and bacon
Bach over easy
how do you teach poetry
shall you instruct
how to have a soul
in chairs, facing front
apple on the table
will you tell me how to feel
in alphabetical order
you would do well
to hold class
at the edge of the volcano
the center of the storm
