Please wish away your scars no more.
They’re the timeline of your life;
They’re the bumps in the road
that brought you into my arms.
Some nights I’ll fall out of the air,
Returned to Earth after my trips
Out on the high seas of a dream.
The lighted candle isn’t there,
This place’s name’s not on my lips
I can’t recall or name a thing.
*
My home, my home,
please stay with me.
I climbed in bed next to my sleeping love. His arms and hands reached out from the mist of his dreams, found and pulled me close, and he kissed my forehead. Like always. I trust in this unconscious action, in the feeling of his sleeping hands knowledgeably traveling the curves of my body. I trust in this simple thing like I trust in the breaking of a wave on some distant ocean shore.
I sometimes wonder if you do not truly grasp the sincerity of my love. You broken, wondrous thing, how can I make you understand? When you and I met, when you befriended me and deciphered the map written on my heart that I’d lost the key to, All the black and white that barred my freedom faded into gray; And when you kissed me, I fell away from the place where I once was chained; I wonder every day now how I can express to you the depths of my devotion, and my unconditional love. You, who loves and loves me and expects little in return, how can I make you see this invisible pledge burning inside of my heart?
The unavoidable fact that you will one day leave this world
steals you from me even now, even as you hold me.
By the time you breathe your last, I’ll have lost you
a thousand times.
How do I stop this death ritual? My morbid tenuousness
is shriveling the blossoms you managed to grow.
Please tell me how to appreciate this life of mine
before it is gone.
“Take care not to let your hearts be troubled.”
Perhaps the author should have spent some spent time in Tibet, with the Buddhist sages. Perhaps he may have found another way to put things: “Take care to not let your hearts be troubled, or entangled, or attached. Also, perhaps you ought to take care not to take care at all. Perhaps you ought to prohibit your emotions and let nothing put you on edge, nor in the middle. Perhaps you ought to just not do anything or be anywhere at all.”
Perhaps there is a way to plug up the heart, so that it cannot feel, cannot heal, cannot take its part in the endless cycles of emotion and demotion.
Today, for the first time, I wish that one of the best things to happen to me had never happened at all. I wish I were Buddhist. No, better: I wish I were a Vulcan.
Take care not to let your plans become a beautiful mirage in the desert of uncertainty.
I upon the rooftop, was gazing at the sky
While every star above, stared down from upon high.
It felt as if I’d slipped, into eternity
For mighty Earth stood still, as heaven turned ‘round me
It wasn’t grandiose, but rather quite discreet,
The way my human pride, clashed with a voice so sweet
Like reminiscence weaved, into a tapestry,
So do the Voice’s words, run through my memory:
“The heavens oscillate, the laws of physics bind,
The starry nights go past, without you on their mind.
Observer, you are one, of many of your kind,
Take care when you stand tall—remember to be kind.”
Awakened by incessant chirping I,
Still sleeping, wandered toward the kitchen sink
And started brewing coffee with a sigh,
Then flipped the world news on to help me think.
*
The woman told me hateful acts had taught
Our sociologists a thing or two
About the way that wars are always fought,
And with this knowledge we could find the Truth.
*
“The Truth to what?” cried I, indignantly
“Can peace be found among the wreckage of
The souls of men with peace deficiency?
Though Science tries, what only wins is Love!”
*
I sipped my coffee with a saint-like air
My eye blind to the plank I’d left in there.
The lazy trees’ songs
Reach me across the meadow,
And I sigh with them,
Letting out the air in me
Like a deflating mattress.
*
“No, that isn’t right
That isn’t quite flattering”
He tries it again—
Letting out the air in me,
In a soft and drawn-out sigh.
*
He ponders the world
As the clouds above stroll by.
If more time were spent this way,
The world might be enlightened
*
He dares not tell us
The last cloud reminded him
Of something phallic,
That he laughed for five minutes
Before somberly lying
*
And telling to us
That it was a nice flower
For a nice bouquet
In an elaborate ploy
To forsake his youth too soon.
Te necesita.
Le doy esta oracion.
Usted mi vida, mi corazon,
y no puedo ocoltarme de Usted.
Les doy todo que es mio, si no en accion,
entonces en palabra y en tradicion: Te necesita.
