Eight out of ten cats prefer

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Of late

PBS has woken me up

furious with their hypocrisy

purporting to be fair when clearly they are not

and half-an ear to the news

I thought of all the times I refused

to hear the truth

sloshing in the saucer beneath the china cup

so breakable

if we step backward and review ourselves

why we did what we did

it is as if someone else steered the wheel

avoiding black ice

I could no more tell you how or why

than the neighbor who hears me in the morning

feeding the strays

tuts under his breath, taking a drag

of menthol cigarette

because the strays you see

piss against his wall leaving

yellow stains on his brick work

and I did not consider that

when I opened the tin

There you are

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about one hundred years ago

or three years

or just yesterday

I lay in your bed

smelling the indent and the roll

of your dream life when I am not

trying to look through your eyes

into your soul

About one hundred years ago

or three years

or just yesterday

I stood over your bed

stripping the sheets

smelling where you lived and breathed

all those nights and days

we should have been making memories

now folded away

About one hundred years ago

or three years

or just yesterday

I smoothed the mattress clear

of the weight you inhabited and

little traces curled here and there

persisting to remind me

of the way the moon lit

your sleeping face

now you will always have your eyes closed

maybe now you can see

the shapes of angels

watching over you until

it is my turn and I come to find

if you have been waiting all this time

a year, a month, a day

one hour is too long

without looking into your eyes

to see what I love reflecting back

like dark diamonds capturing stars

will wink out

and there you are

The surface

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Play the chord

fingers synchronized with musical word

if it could music would

speak her ache and exchange seats

pass the parcel

good children canceling upbringing

she was told early in life

click your heals, come what may

stomach flu for those who try

cucumber eaters reward the beguiled

not everything hot seeks to be mild

she has shorn her hair

she had snipped her tinny heart

a changing in need of firm foothold

women flock together

temptation to condemn grows bold

she wants to say

do not condemn her

because she reminds you of a hated sister

or provoked in her fist toward the sky

some outcry

the cantor of what ifs

rich healed but poor in charity

make do with petitions nobody reads

can you eat paper?

served empty stomachs before bed

you liked her for the very things that tried to kill

a blue jay lands in her hair

she is beholden of magic in mosaic hour

nobody talks to the lax or those who having lived say

i am tired do not stone me for my wish to sleep

they tell us to wake refreshed and give thanks for every day

as the woman with tumors can attest

we never know our last act

but she is unappreciative according to modern science

she has only felt horror in the divulge

show me purpose in this false world she cries

show me meaning on the flat tyres of transport

choking concrete eyelids

she never spoke her own language

she spoke through bandages

swaddling true message

could it be for some this world is too much?

the refuge of the underneath bewitching

thronging temptation far across water

she smells just like your childhood girlfriend

capturing applies in her cotton frock

go back through time

give your place to another

let them pluck the skinned chord

tune the piano with violent glove

close audience’s raptor with honest stare

beyond them and the sweating lights

disrobing in darkness

stirs

a familiar urging retreat

come

bow your striped head

step away in foil

take your now

it is all right

to seek to let go

and skip

senseless below

the surface

Zero

267e842992bef6fb109e19c3291fe496I held her fate in my hands

I had a chance to end her sting of me

I chose instead to help her live

it does not seem an easy thing

forgiving yourself for choices

time can never recover

people who take and leave you barren

they’re the ones who will never

know their true darkness

they’re the ones who will get up fast

as if nothing much occurred

it takes a lot to wound someone

who does not have a heart