I Am [.]

I am. Sad. For the memories. I have.

Of you. Even though I know. It was bad.

I still loved you. More than I ever had.

More than anyone I have.

But you're not mine. I'm not yours.

Though I know. Like seasons come. They go.

Ours is gone. Like Indian spring. Far too short.

Your summer was cruel. Your spring fallow. Untrue.

But your winter was beautiful.

I see angels in the snow. I miss you.

Primal Primacy (The pattern of firsts)

My lovers lips cleft in That satisfied sigh,
Like the gentle moan of enlightened winds.
The ancient yogis brave ancient mountains,
To perch upon mystic peaks, where such
Primal primacy speaks through pristine sky.

The savage cabal, the lonely heart's spy
Lurks in the phantoms of windowpanes,
The frost of cherub's smiling into fountains.
The dirge of wind keening through towers makes
Skeleton steps of the tree branches glassy rime.

Dawn is harsh to hands bound by turning time,
Which takes too eager glimpses between rooftops
And their gray peaked, pauper prince countenance.
Her mourned for absence will be beautiful in triangular ways -
It's inevitable, pattern of firsts; A kiss, A sigh, A goodbye.

(It's killing me I can't figure out how to make the last line one syllable shorter. No more love poetry about women and math at the same time.)

Lady Bug In My Loft (Strange friends)

Ladybug in my loft,
December snows settle in
And you're a fugitive -
An old crone or child
Born in unfortunate seasons.
Crawl around my counter
Between towels and tea candles-
There's nothing here for you,
And my windows have been
Sealed shut for weeks -
How long have you been hiding
Among the folds of my linens
And listening to the songs
Of my loss and lost longing?
I suppose, we're not so unalike
Children of misplaced generations
Wandering in our un-reason.
But you remind me of pretty
Hipster girls in polka dots
Drinking cheap beers and
Dancing to The Dresden Dolls.
Places I should be,
Down stalking the ghetto's streets,
Because there's nothing here for
You, or for me.
Let's wait out the winter here,
Together - see if we can make
Good roomates through New Years.
We'll sip champagne together,
Listen to the pistol pops
Play out through the valleys
Of the city's taller buildings.
If by spring, you're still here,
Well, I'll crack my windows
And let the new born air in,
Leave the wintery season behind
And depart as strange friends.

Ex-lovers (Disconnected through social media)

Ex-lovers,
Fond friends,
Sitting alone,
Typing away -
Leaving links
And status updates.
Late night,
Both still awake.
I wonder.
What walls,
What wrongs
Rose up between them,
To one night be
Laying in loving arms
And now to be unaware
Of the others written words.
I know he wonders,
In the bedrock
Of his quaking mind
Where she is tonight.
And I know she
Ponders in the glades
Of her willowy thought;
If he might be online.
They say, the hardest
Part of loss is knowing
What's gone goes on.
Without you, your love;
The humble truth,
We're just screens,
Flckering walls that
Still flciker when the
Power of our connections
Are cut off.
We just flicker,
For something else.
Ex-lovers,
Fond friends,
Sitting alone,
Flickering away.

Cut The Noose (Suffer for sinners, not self proclaimed saints).

Cut the noose,

The gallows give.

How many months

Have you been

Strung up like this?

Two souls, one love

The other unknown -

Lust or affection,

But something further

From True North,

The magnetic pull of

Faith's direction.

Martyr, Sinner -

Hangmen are never

Victims in innocence,

But I've paid my penance;

It was always mine,

But I can't hang

For your crimes too.

Not when you won't

Admit the truth.

Two souls burden,

More than a man can bear;

But you know,

I would die for you.

To this day,

As the rope unfurls

And my body is taken

Wrapped in bandit

Shrouds, dirty, drab, gray.

If I had two lives,

One, it would be yours,

I know you don't

Believe me, that's ok.

I'm a liar, thief and

Fool and ashamed,

But not of this.

The crimes locked

In your indifferent lips,

My execution kiss.

Cut me down,

Over and over,

With inciting,

Hurtful words.

I would hang,

For your sins,

But not the

Paltry whims

Of a self

Proclaimed

Saint.

You Are The Ghost (You are not alone)

You are the ghost

In the machine,

My sanskrit muse -

Dead languages

We used to know to speak,

Whose cryptic

Presence has me typing

Out long forgotten epitaphs -

Poems, prose all my pretty

Bloody, weeping words;

Fingers dance more these

Days with black keys than

Strands of hair or lovers ears -

All the pretty girls,

I caught and consumed

Trying to chase away

The memories and taste of you.

Well they still call

Unaware that this is the winter

And they were summer and fall.

Because hearts have roots and

They burrow deep,

The crown of leaves may change

But those tendrils still seek

Nourishment in the deep

Of once fertile ground

Even when days grow short

And the woodlands bleak.

So quiet now, listen to the wind

The ghost that howls,

Heralding great storms that

Rip oak and willow from earth,

Cast into the sky,

That once lovely voice within

With beauty that once wove

Gossamer through summery dreams

Become the shriek

Of forlorn medians and tundra,

The great white waste

Of lush lands, everything dies,

Kings, kingdoms, language and lust -

Everything risen up in fury

Is laid to rest in peace and solemnity.

The phantoms that cling,

Haunting bone, soul and memory

The angels and demons that seep

Out of haunted fingers onto

Computer screens,

Hoping others wandering

In this vast and great obscurity

Understand words written

In arcane emotions,

The story of roots, ghosts

Wind and bone.

Poems scratched into fallen trunks

Half buried in fresh fallen snow -

Sign posts to find your way home,

Whomever that may be,

Even as you're lost in the cold

Know that though you may be fallen

Just beneath your feet

Are all the humbled trees toppled

By once warm spirits in the biting breeze-

Everyone who ever dared to venture out

From blinking screens and glowing hearth

Has lost more than they could have known -

You aren't alone.

Let's Just Buy A House (But baby)

She begs me, baby, eyes all brown and heavy-

Let's just buy a house, settle down,

We'll slip into a new life without

All of this pain, without the city lights.

Everything, everything can be all right.

That would be beautiful

If it were true,

But the sea, it caresses the sand

And baby, my calloused hands

Were never meant for you.

I know you love me dearly,

But baby, I just don't want you.

Oh I know, how you could think this is love

Because when I hold you down,

Hand pushing back that auburn mane

It feels like the angels are lifting us up.

But baby, the angels, they don't give a fuck about us.

Life, girl, it's not a pretty thing,

Not like you,

But flowers, they reach up toward the sun

And we both know I'm not the one.

All you ever wanted was a simple thing,

But I'm a puzzle, baby, we both know

If you solved me, you'd find nothing.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. . .