My love

I’m nothing in your wake

the youth you hold

makes me quake

and it is all I can do

to hold this clay that aches,

together  — all for your sake.

You are a fist

that comes down upon my heart

giving a life

a spark, a start

all so I can plead your case

before time’s royal immense face.

My love,

don’t take these stuttered words for truth.

I’m only like you

who so perfectly fill up space

that other’s only suffer from.

Exist and shine

like an unseen sun

beyond the incompletness

we are burnt by.

O! how foolish I was

trying to douse your flames!

Instead I climb these steps

and make of myself an offering.

This is no boast.  Honestly.

I am handing you the knife ……………………

I swear,

my love could silence

the hum of this hornet’s next

with one sure swat

of her hallow hand.

I swear,

she could.

I have seen her do much more.

My world stops in her gaze.

The fire behind her eyes melting my chains.

My world hops to her ways.

I swear,

my love could break

the heart of mankind

with one simple smack

of her red, loaded lips.

She could

thought she never would

such are the miracles

my love can perform.

I write poetry

like a goose might

take a shit.

So, what of it?

As the smiling cook at

the boy’s home said

as he took off the pot’s lid,

“Anyone can have a kid.

It’s simple, like making soup –

but it’s the stirring

that counts.”

I write poetry

like a sick man

walking down the street

might spit.

So, what of it?

Nothing I can really do.

The real is up to you.

"Often we have to get away from speech in order to think clearly."
                                   — R. S. Woodworth, Experimental Psychology

to two too =s 3
no thinking     thin king
run on sentence    life sentence
le mot juste
Ommm Ahhh Oh! Yeah  shhhhhhhhhh
         says the tired tire
wee wee wee all the way
to the small home           hole
Ole Ole Ole     cafe au lait    O! Lay
          lady lay……
springs sing
in the flower bed
every year    why ear?
    we’re here weir
damn it!  damn it!  damn it!
    aswants    the tin mad!
steeling a       way
    anyway,
something like that
3 eees
     with ease
we do as we please
         stuckkkkkkkkkkkkin
bloody place    body  face
two faced the mirror
     or     rathOR
saw themselves in two
two pieces suits you
ewe moo you and who
who who who who
hoots the unfoul owl
Ough! aaaH!  Ouch!
we too two wake up
       at a wake
who who who who
         died?      Lewis
carolled
no question to mark
          the grave
question a quest
ask again,    request
Hark!  who who who
          goes there
any way    or
somewhere  like  that
cuz THAT
is how it goes
goes goes ooooooooos
around
   another round please
the wait ‘er    is over
we have time to
two all ready drunks
      drink up  get down
kup after hiccup
    to ketchup
words aren’t enough
but they’re all
        we hal  ve
ah!!!  So unfair  there is
     no fair   where
we’re goinggoinggoingone
         all sawn
see                  saw
in two               pieces
         who says.

We must in all ways struggle

a bug on a beach

to be free

caught as we are

midway, oneway between

memory and the dream

heaven and sea

wondering what makes this be

’til a bird we remember

swallows us

like a king taking tea

and our dream is all it seems

but its too late then

to scream.

 

The snow in my hand that

                    isn’t

where the whiteness was.

A poem is my woman

      and when I enter her

I doff my chains, free

to count the links

each man and woman

woman and man

ever before and to come.

 

I am free, aswim in truth

the primal ooze

cursing through us all.

Liberated, I come and go

finding that:

      words are flesh

      flesh are words.

 

A poem is my woman

          and when I enter her

in union we bend

the bars of our cells.

Then, free as a window

we can jump down,

down into the green fields

and know our god

                             that woman

                                       the poem

     within us all.

“When you’ve got nothing

you’ve got nothing to lose”

 

Life is a dance

in an empty pair of shoes

while the memories in

the gas fed room

loom and crowd and zoom.

 

The universe is collapsing.

Photographs flap and float about.

All the geese are frozen in the pond.

Al the fish breathless, quiet on the lawn.

The wind whistles through the window’s clear cracks.

You dream an axe handle dreaming of the axe.

 

Mixing all

all wide eyed sleep

the tension of the saw

destroying more

while outside sad snow falls.

You understand

there is,

only nothing you can keep.