With the beauty of her temperature

15319260_10202291446205021_9072796197672683666_nConversely, paradoxically it has come to

envying the mania

a relief from sorrow

where creation can once more grow

unimpeded by sloth of emotion

covering us like autumn leaves bury unaware

I suffocate every time the heavy hand comes around

and when it is gone I come up for air

but the passage between light and dark is not extreme

not like the mercurial soul who soars high above themselves

I watch them fly so far

I can never muster that much

my energy is a stone well without water

during the darkness hibernation

and when the light shines it only

lightly pierces

like a ray not even sufficient for hope

will wake the sleeping from their nightmare

long enough to know

yes there is another world out there

but you with your rubber gloves around your head

cannot plug yourself in

you are restrained by the amount of light

weak and far ahead

where angels fear to tread

and mania dances hedonistically

with the beauty of her temperature

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We believe

Use your long words

describe the smell of memory

antiseptic

there in your transparent igloo

born to incubate

smoke before it’s legal on your mother’s habit

bequeath me the tendency

to live without need

from pockets we pull

the nurture the seed

sprouting in defiance

when everything else died of frost bite

against the ire of a late Winter storm

gusting itself into white rage

through the glass you see

yourself being re-made

in the eyes of old women whose wrinkles

make a universal puzzle

and the swell of hills

cast over with violet

a heaven of sorts in setting light

glazing countertops

for foot prints of unseen beast

leading off into nearby copse

could we will ourselves

another go around?

stepping backward into

infancy, chewing the umbilical

surrounded by potential like

a wet firework strains to explode

would it be any different?

your hands, molding my shape

DNA

the type of pasta eaten

over Lake Como the day

of conception

holy was the love that bore the wish

lost in steepled weather vein

glistening against straining light

a mockery of control

just out of reach

there she is

eighty years from now and

just re-born

in unfurled leaves and first sprouting

green a forbidden thing

among the white ushers and

dark flitting ponderable

marveling we can be conscious

of ourselves and of nothing more

than a stream aching to unfreeze

creep closer to living

inch by inch

two warm bodies without a thing between them

aside the shame of knowing

we live both futile and richly

worming our way into the meat

and tender bruise of absolving

those things we believe we need

Cannot breathe

12809596_1413579175413678_4036998646343994268_nGood bye. Two words. Easily said

impossible to mend a ravaged soul

take a photo of grief she may hide in plain sight

a snapshot in time does not a story tell

one great smile and everything is assumed well

even we, reminiscing glaze over story’s end

maybe it’s for the best …

making memories to endear rather than ravage

such the way of humanity and its glitter ball

yet

beneath the smile, as bright as ever was

more luminous and beautiful perhaps

for undercurrent of savage sorrow

you were crawling out of your mind

it seems an offense to forget

under widest grins we suffer in silence

touched by the same unspeakable sin

of feeling too much in a world favoring compartments

for on the appointed day the photographer says

cheese! and on auto pilot I grin with every ounce of fake

afterward he exclaims, you can see the joy in your heart

it radiates

and sure enough

look closely you cannot tell

I am falling apart

I am coming undone

beneath the layers of my glimmering

it is spoken, smile! and you will feel better!

would that were true

a smile when you are sorrowful

one that cannot be seen through

often the ruin behind the glue

for all the world is a stage

people believe what is easy to convey

they never stop to look beneath

it is not what they wish to keep

in their collective memory

let’s be cheerful! Dismiss regret!

the sorrow we feel

welling under surface

must stay as secret lake

never admit

when you are the only person in a room

crying inside whilst outside you bloom

hello it’s good to meet you

hi there, it’s nice to see you

everyone says wow don’t you look great!

not aware when you get home you will

pluck out your eyes

made of stone

pull off the mask

kick off the shoes

tear down the dress

all the artifice

with no-one to hear your cry

for sorrow is never shared

it is a lonely lonely journey

suffered behind waves of denial

and you wish so much

someone would call you up and say

you were smiling in your photo today

but I saw a sadness beneath

can I come round and help you?

can I hold you when you cannot

breathe?