Filed Under: Poetry
Perfect moments. Quiet walks through parks, Central and Hyde.
Remembrances and visions of ghosts.
The void was plain in those spaces and I embraced it as though it was the time of my death.
Death. Embrace of the void. Acceptance most plain and final and joyous.
We are nothing. We are everything. We are all and none and in between.
We drank and wept that night.
You wept for your missing Father. Last seen with Cancer.
Strong Bull of a Patriarch humbled and hobbled.
Your hobbled and humbled state mere hours from its appearance. It began instantly.
No water needed just time and drudgery. Regrets and realizations.
Prisons.
I wept for Perfect Moments. First kisses. Doomed Loves.
Weights still heavy on my mind.
The Lost Swede, coy and insanely passionate on the floor of her flat.
The Bird on Sauber’s lawn, young and insatiate.
Lady K, explosive and unexpected. Neon and electro.
Where are you all now? With lovers more correct or better hung or less broding, doting, attentive?
Less troubled, humbled and conscious of the whats? What whats?
Exactly.
But you had sympahy for me. My ragged drunkeness and pain
of lack-love laid bare before you.
We sang out loud. Father and Son together singing out our pain and longing - Singing Willie Nelson, prince of the blues
Genius of longing. …
Whiskey. Willie. Your god damned hanging on.
You look at empty spaces just as you look at me.
Nothing. Then Someth … No. Nothing.
Go on. Go. Please.
For your loving wife.
For your daughter. On the edge of a cliff.
For you. Most of all. For you.
To death, Father. To death.
I love you. To death.
No affliction is so great
As the twisting tight
Of a bed without your lover.
Her slippers by the door
A strand of her hair resting on the empty pillow
The nest of blankets often put to the side
now wrap me in my solitude.
———
Lurching, suspended over chill depths,
I ponder my monolith.
Smooth and warm and heaven to touch, my monolith
Housed in […]
A girl in athletic gear bounded up the walkway to a derelict indisposed. I watched her bend over a vagrant, hover closely over him, speaking to him as if trying to rouse an intimate friend. Fruitless efforts to incite motivation. There were gimmicks, rolls, murmurs, coughs, cackling, bitching and moaning. There were people watching people […]