Silent remembrance, oak filled friendship,
Small deities set against white walls,
The cold curvature of ocean lapping softly,
Sweden on the faint side of the wind,
Faces fading in the garden,
Miniature mansions, a few heartbeats of an era
Deep voice, slim frame, like the girl from
What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.
Language, great equalizer.
Money, a force that breaks and creates like age.
Norway to Morocco. One sugar please, sugar.
A confident walk or the shuffling of a broken form.
The eternally turning wheel will not stop,
The cherry blossoms will glow and fade
over the murmuring stillness of water.
She grabbed me passing by ‘Find me the train to Camden luv”
But I could only find her the man who could find her the train.
She asked the man “How long do I have?”
She was tap tapping at the window,
hollow spheres swirling in her head
Colored cat’s eye marbles, brilliant blue.
“10 minutes for the next one, ma’am”
Her neck juggled a gleeful thought, she said,
“I’ll have a smoke - come outside and find me when it’s time?”
“Yes m’am”
“Thanks luv”
Tap tapping out the doorway.
It is a good thing to know where the sea is.
As it is a good thing to know where to look to find god.
It was raining with the sun out.
The sun scattered droplets on the children and the rest.
That opposites interact, that they may close the loop
That binds them in separateness
The between act, l’entracte,
The between cut of meat, l’entrecôte
Between the ribs where one would plunge
the sword or some other steel object of desire,
Plunge into the heart, or missing pierce through
to the other side in a spurt of lust or peace,
A spike in your shoulder blade-wing angel.
Varied faces. Varied stories. Whence you come
Where you go. Together in movement weaving the
floating net. Strand or pillar you sanctify the space.
Do not fade, dear one, stranger you are closest of kin.
I love you like my blood, and the blood of my blood.
Your single identity, your self taught individuality,
Is seared and branded onto my heart, do not fade.
You compass the worlds with the might of creation,
You flow into me with a force of grace.
That binds them in separateness
The between act, l’entracte,
The between cut of meat, l’entrecôte
Between the ribs where one would plunge
the sword or some other steel object of desire,
Plunge into the heart, or missing pierce through
to the other side in a spurt of lust or peace,
A spike in your shoulder blade-wing angel.
Varied faces. Varied stories. Whence you come
Where you go. Together in movement weaving the
floating net. Strand or pillar you sanctify the space.
Do not fade, dear one, stranger you are closest of kin.
I love you like my blood, and the blood of my blood.
Your single identity, your self taught individuality,
Is seared and branded onto my heart, do not fade.
You compass the worlds with the might of creation,
You flow into me with a force of grace.
