Behind The Rainbow

I knew her when winter was her cloak
And spring her voice she spoke to me...
--Chris White, "Changes"




I can only find traces of you
-- a tawny, thin strand brushes red across my cheek

Every time I see that same pearly blue
-- a bitter thud

In some alternate universe
We're sitting at that table together
In defiance,
I brush your cheek with my hand

Your lips
push a thin, red smile

Wilderness

I was there for you when you were lonely
I was there when you were sad
I was there when you were bad
Now it's my time of need
-- Stuart Murdoch



charcoal marks across the hearth


we never spent summers
together
sprawled out in the green
grass

so much room,
but no
space
to breathe

I push these ashes around,
telling the same
old stories

People Ain't No Good

"we crossed paths for a reason... and it only strengthened my faith in just that... reason."

i called your name
a deaf response from
the broken glass
all come to rest

what can we bring forward

from borrowed
loves?

shattered images

clenching our faces up
and worrying about
what is ours

what once
was not

what flesh can i clutch from honest purposes?

i wandered
through grievances
and personal
price

coming up in intervals
to glimpse a saviour's
face

but it is changing
and hazy,
drowning
in the blue

i called your name
from the broken glass

all come to rest

Trashed

lips
pillowy like a ship's
billowy sails

hair
once black
as soot

you're everything but calling, dear
and i can't follow you
on foot

my hands have never been
so tied

and it's not like
you've never cried
before

so
we'll be like
two ships in the night
-- except the sea is a hole in the wall
and we're dancing...

(Obey)

And if you turn away
because there is no lesson here
I will hold my awkward bowl,
with all its cracked stars shining
Not that it was beautiful,
but that I found some order there...
.......although your fear is anyone's fear,
like an invisible veil between us all...and sometimes in private,
my kitchen, your kitchen,
my face, your face.

-- Anne Sexton, from "For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further"



Coffee --
That bitterness
The acid slick on the tongue

Bedraggled bones and
a refusal to meet
my eye

I am a necessary nuisance --
Like the grit you pick off
Your teeth
As if to say,
"Not enough."

Here we are
Struggling through dinners abroad,
Sorry cups stuttering as they are
being dragged along,
Your disappointment nipping at my heels

Stuttering couplets
and open books
Fighting spasms as I reach my arm
across state lines

Use your own judgement

Even in this space,
These long, white hallways,
We are trapped (together)

You think that I am imagining
this torment
That I will awaken
and shake you loose --
a selfish disturbance

I will cross the room
as a child,
wearing short, velvet dresses
and high socks
I will grow out of this
embarrassment

Encased and defeated

I am left to my own devices --
A purple placated vein
Twitching in the dark
I am not enough

blue duvet part deux

i am folded in this
dusty, old duvet

cast neatly in
messy piles of
aged cloth
and teeth

held dear and
useless

handed over thoughtlessly
for a dime,

a memory mishandled

Swell

...Yet when we came back, late,
from the hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
speak, and my eyes failed,
I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light,
the silence.
-- From The Wasteland, by T.S. Eliot



i called your name

a deaf response
from
the broken glass
all come to rest

shattered images

what can we bring forward
from borrowed love?

clenching our faces up
and worrying about
what is ours
what once
was not

what flesh can i clutch
from honest purposes?

i wandered
through grievances
and personal
price,
coming up in intervals
to glimpse a saviour's
face

-- but it is changing,
and hazy,
drowning
in the blue swell
of promise