this day is not for us

This day is for roses
clipped and gathered
presented and preserved
worth less living than dried
in a perfect still life

not for dandelions
unwanted and hushed
weeded and snuffed
only to rage wildfires
round the rim of our lives

So today let us gaze
upon our roses
as they wilt
and are hung to keep
and pull the blinds
on the expanse
where dandelions sleep
until blazing, they again invade
our righteous dreams of spring


late confessions

confessions pour and river
when there is no after
gathering solemnly
to pay last respects
we flail in insight’s waters
rising to see nothing
could have been altered
that this wall was where
we would falter
with no way
to divert the flow
of past regrets
flooding into swirls
of longed-for words
hardly heard
in the din
of dizzying eddies
to this end

first snow

this first snow
tinged in blues
what should have been
bright green
shadows of intentions
snuffed in ultraviolet glows
mounds levelled soft
damper expressions
that peaked in yesterdays’
long slanted light
the improbable gathers
and clings in clumps
to our thoughts
turning sluggishly home
to await the next thaw

what will you say

will you know what to say
when I look on astonished
by what the years
have taken away or
dragged into the waning light
of this blue winter night

will you know what to say
when I forgive all
I know you cannot give
without all that you knew
giving way

will you know what to say
when we’re done
with the pretense
that brought us here
against all sense
when I touch you in a way
that belies
all I tried to hide
with gestures
to dazzle and blind you
when a hint of your touch
will be enough
to swipe away
such confessions
admitting all
but the mention
that here we are again
singing of beginnings
when we both know
it can only be the end

what of it

and what of
all the talks
we don’t have
because this
is not the movies
and astrology
gives no guarantees
and saying
what we both know
won’t change a thing
and then there’s just words
littering the space between
so we can’t even look
at each other
without disappointment
so we avoid contact
smile, joke, seethe
and cry resentment
into dark humour
poured back in shots
of snide comments
until hate settles
to the bottom
of our guts 

let us sit
swollen with words
stomachs full
of hopes mispelled
seeping in,
running through
our veins
flooding our dreams
as we wait for the day
we can calmly expel
their decay  


since life would not
amuse me,
I made a muse of death
she told that tomorrow
was but a promise unkept
a fine wine
aged to vinegar
crumpled hopes
stuffed into pockets
a hedged bet
never repaid
today is sudden
thick flakes
falling flat
the words let slip
through lips
full of hesitation
twisted smile
I forgive life
all it cannot give

small confession

I am ashamed
that I preferred you
when you were
still searching,
wavering, wondering
and becoming
rather than now
that you are
decided, defined, done
and moving on

not today

who would want to dream
on a day like this
made for pondering
waste and decay
rather than possibilities
who would dare partake
in the birth of ideas
and formulate plans
when the rain is relentless
and the hours drain
in endless gradients of grey
where slumber is
the only ray of light
pointing the way to tomorrow

halfway there

It’s not alright, but I’m okay
I’m wading through
this soggy day
checking items that won’t wait
and prepping for that lucky break
that won’t come until too late

Outside, the leaves
dance in the wind
flitting and flittering
under city lights
like they will never
fall underfoot
to be swept away 

It’s not alright, but I’m okay
days rise late and slip away
I sit with words
tucked under my skin
the hopes they contain
seeping in, running through
flooding my dreams
with vain promises
fall, I know, will not sustain
past the first frost

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