The catechism of bereavement

guilt
is a wasted emotion
why
is rarely the best question

the air is full of optimism – breathe deeply
no one replaces anyone – even a dog

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The Worm

God save me
from the ever-unaltered
good morning dear
treacherous as
poison into my ear.

God save me
from the perfunctory –
the judas kiss of love’s
betrayal.

Listen, belovèd Big Deal,
Don’t have the time ?
That, at least, is real.
Go play that other keyboard,
we are not each other’s ward.

Love begins to wither at a sorry,
as to a stranger on the bus
whose toe you just stepped on.
So either be there – here, with me, with us –
my sweet …or get thee goddamn gone.

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Delirium Tremendous!

Of course true love is always shared in joys –
for lovers never read each other wrong.
True love is held aloft as altar boys
would carry holy vessels through the throng.
And love is never weary, never flags,
is bright as popcorn, glowing as a morn;
no outside factors leave a heart in rags
or, faced with daily pressures, grown forlorn.
     a lover’s kiss is always toothhpaste sweet
     for love is groovy, awesome, total…neat.

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Nature, Man and Woman

Now cite for me the place that it begins –
parse the peas and carrots please; and then
the creepy-crawly things, and things with fins
and when you’re through with that, consider men!
No, really, it’s a joke to will us there,
beyond the borders of all else that breathes
[we’ve long been far less vital than the air]
and flowers growing wild surpass all wreaths;
true nature lives in us and we in her;
we are not separate from the scheme of things;
it’s skin as much goosedown, beaver fur –
your precious stones were precious before rings.
     It’s Mother Nature brought about your birth;
     we are not foreign bodies here on Earth.

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The Sheer Volume of Histories

haphazzard              
                     inevitables
         or ponderous        imponderables

                   times out      
                        in forgotten dreams    

                tides turn at times
   – tsunamistyle, it seems –
               and splinter
                        these frailest
                                  of  vessels

     now      that  one gull-white sail
             is rent
                        asunder      
                    I am left   adrift              

                                        to wonder

               who poured all the lead
          into those empty suitcases ?

                    a weary heart embraces
                                     fearful thoughts

     . . .  can these tenderest green buds
            survive so many mean     and ancient
                              onsloughts ?

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New Beginnings

My weary darling sleeps
and his slumber fashions
my waking fantasies
as I follow unrecognized
shadows around walls that
have acquired fresh coats
of innocence – rooms newly
unknown, unexpected incarnations
of love reborn in dreams
of countless kisses –
of kisses sweet
and kisses langourous,
rough and tender
beyond blunt gender
beyond beyond –
though truest love commands
I let my dear sleep on.

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Seduction

forget the lore on birds and bees
how to tease and how to please
how to squeeze and never freeze ?
try gin or vodka to appease
or maybe just some wine with cheese
alcohol does it…by degrees.

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