(280407)

saturday

Empty evenings a world away.
-
There is one sun
sinking in my room
and it will not take yes for an answer.
I am scalded by accusing rays
of what else I can do and what else I
cannot control - hold - change.
-
laundry manages to drip
with careful malice and
every noise - muffled - word - laugh mocks,
reminding of a parallel path
in a could have taken world.
-
long days and Longer weeks
less tears and a chill inside the house
says I Cannot Move The Universe
and I will leave alone and
wonder if every hushed footstep - voice
is intentional
-
avoidance of unwanting. April
will not budge, and
the air is too dry for my skin.

(still backdating - 090407)

(untitled)

Long days lure melancholy,
white-shirted, tiny-fisted,
insubstantial but shattering
ballerinas-in-waiting
flooding the wings as
a deep pirouette drum
whistles from the corner.
You re-enact in my head
on repeat
all smiles words laughter,
memories of joy and faith in
a world that still turns and marries
and soulmates and smooths.
I have given up on
paths and forgetting, I
have confused forgiveness
with resignation.
These are far hours
and classic tears.

(120107 21:43)

deadweight
-
you are a burden i have become accustomed to carrying.
to let you go is to lose a kite,
so i leave you tangled in the branches, barren, and
frustrated at the fruitlessness you cannot identify
if i keep up my denial.
i alone am
the sum of my selfishness. you struggle
in the tree but i cannot walk
away, not because i want you.
i make my excuses to the passerbys.
they wait, they ignore, or they do not heed and
i wonder if they see the whiteness of my words.
admission is a labour
and i silently delay my guilt.
-
i am unable to miss you.
i am scared of the wind.
i do not feel when i am with you.
-
moments and minutes and distant sirens and
apologies and regrets and promises and
excuses and awareness.
-
i hate your silences i do not laugh at your jokes.
i want to forget your embrace and
your form. i am ashamed of my embarrassment.
i am ashamed -
-
of you, for you;
Of me, for you.
-
And i am sorry, I really am.

(old somethings, from "but," 2005)

felt
-
i have lost a half-hearted
dreamer in halfway-love.
-
it is a small thing, a clear thing,
a mere thing,
but a dear thing, a real thing,
a blue thing
now missed,
fragile.
-
oh, to lament the feeble
and long for the more than,
cherish the once felt
and pine for the could have
when it is hard to know better than to.
-
there is no outlet in forgetting when
the sensed absence of memory
indicates the sensed presence;
the aftertaste of yesterday's proximity
still lingers in my mouth,
the crease where your side touched mine
still refuses to be washed away,
and all these awakenings
-
once missed
now felt.