Condensation

Recall,
Springtime rain fell cool
Each drop fated to fall somewhere
Left or round, to sink or fill rivers.
All somewhere gone, forgotten.

See!
These drops roll, not full cold
Promise all of us we'll feel frozen
Soon and sure courses will fail flowing,
Seize up sometime, invisible.

Those storms.
This gloom.

Gordion

Threads tangled dangle,

Loose knotted looping, close drooping

There and there wrapped

Too tight.

Taught.

Frayed feathery.

Flowing slightly, so silken. 

Fibers dance dyed bright, bounce

Buoyantly. Blow lightly luminescent upon

Floating, flowering disconnections.

Cry with your two eyes

What's not dying but life?
Not failure someday but
Living today.
Even if teeth hurt and your smile
Seems glassy,
It'll ever and ever be a'thump thump
And boo a'hoo.
And you'll hate it before it's over.
And like a baby,
You'll cry before sleeping.

You'll want your mum
Before you die.

So live awhile awake and smile.
Forget "Forever," you never knew her.
Open your bloody heart to bleeding
And we'll laugh tears at the sun.
It'll be ever so funny.
Cry aha! Ahaha!
What friends we'll be,
     I wouldn't miss it for anything.
    
You'll let go your grip
You will fly.

Find joy in unexpected places.

A Seraph's Flight

I flew,
two flags flapping
one in each hand
and I was a messenger.

Buildings full staring, window to window
I inspected my banners tangling,
but I could not recognize.
I saw them and I spoke.
And a woman replied:
"Should we listen?"

Sympathy for my Darling

I look out at sea and sometimes see
water. It moves. Breathe in my lover, new or not.
She moves. Send out my money or take it in
for he or she or them but just, it moves.
The weather moves. It is heart beat, delicate
but plain. The heart's beat may quicken may
hurt when hurried yet wherein is its feeling?
There too is my feeling, out there. It's plain.
It moves.

elevator

alien us-sweating ammonia,
electric razor sounds-our voice,
and what faraway childhood beauty,
we step on wheels where legs were.
with easier sex on the web, sticky.
we with sleep on TV, bored fear work
and one another's monotonous dramas.

but still there and scary, the world,
but on the other side, that looking glass
with life on the other side:
wedding time with funeral done first,
done before and already. it's done
already. its done without us.

what license for taking such time, being old?
before Computer he eats us up, before he has his time,
what can we do to make the way? do we walk in the way
or just eat the bread, just write poems. just bite the dog.
just smell the coffee. just take our medicine. just
do something...like cry. just spill the milk and
drink the coffee black black black into the night.

walk bitter into the night buzzing for fear that that sun,
it will come up and with it we will be exhausted
completely. the bright light will close up our blinded
up eyes for sleeping. our eyes for sleeping,
our round, shined eyes.