the terms

We look and admire
you, the colour
me, the forms
that adorn our sleeves
worn with scorn
while the leaves
pile up in the eaves
and fallen promises to clear
the debris overflow
and fill the gutters
as we smile discontented
muttering resentments
asking open ended questions
to not upend and offend sentiments distended
beyond their intended reach
For fear we breach
agreements written
in the sand hand in hand
before we new of rising tides
and how time will deride us
as we strive to keep
to our terms

I wanted to say…

Something about
nuts and nicotine
chocolate and your eyes
far away
like headlights glinting
in the setting sun
like diamonds on the horizon
or a wild animal approaching

Keeping thoughts of mortality and time wasted at bay

Something about slanted light
and dying flowers casting monstrous shadows
dancing to the wind
while flies cling to skin
against their destiny

Something about slivers
and cracks of truths
beheld like jewels
as we retrace our steps
across the thinning ice
tonguing a hole in a tooth
or was it a mountain?
And falling into oblivion
just the same

circular reasoning

For days now
I’ve been wanting
to write to you

But each act
is a design
towards
an intent

And I have
none left

Other than
to let you know
that for days now
I’ve been wanting
to write to you,
but…

meantime

Five little words
could hardly impress
with any duress
but I must confess
like a chess master
preparing for disaster
I’m already five exchanges ahead
and all the digressions
you’ll make instead
of coming clean

And though my head is full
it’s my body that aches
to make up for mistakes
and time lost
in planning petty crimes
and their atonement
the moment we are done

So take your time
and borrow mine
I’ll burrow down
and tow some lines
that I’ll retrace and erase
in case my resolve dissolves
and I fill in the spaces wrong
all over again

lines crossed

I absorb
your words
but sense
only
your eyes
fixed
past me
and the fool I am
to think
either has ought
to do with me

rations

There’s not much left to say
in these warm September days
when we’ve harvested
the best of what we laid
and picked the weeds
to clear the way for winter

How long will it take
before we’re done
making meagre feasts
of memory’s rationed remains
leaving little to sustain us
in the silent snow to come
but idle talk of fall
and gathered grains
and waiting for spring rains
to begin planting again
though we know
some things flower
only once, if ever at all

in the blink of an eye

You are beautiful today
You are skin
full of blood surfacing
hot to the touch
You are bones
erected in sure measure
steady and ready
to bare my weight
You are muscles
extending to contract
the space between us
And all of you is palpable
reachable and graspable
Unlike your sparse sharp words
and slick resolve
deflating expectations
to swipe them silently away
in the blink of an eye

implied

my truest goal
was to coax your soul
out of its rusted cage
my words, the grease
your thoughts, the key
to free you from this page

summer’s end

I’m not ready
for the end of summer
the shorter days
and too long nights
the colder, crisper,
slanted light
casting less afters
than befores

I wanted you
in summer
under raining stars
facing the bold moon
not in a dimmed room
under stolen hours,
humid covers and eyes
folded down
against tomorrow

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