I listen to the walls
but they gossip too much.
They speak of the provocative,
not the intellectual.
I concentrate on the window
only to watch a quiet fly
with no words.
I notice the dead-air,
it's loud. It has a distinct
sound to it.
church bells ringing
announcing her wedding
on June twenty-fourth --
seated on the back pew,
he wishes her happiness
When the moon shines bright,
Calmly float from out the snow.
Tall, ruthless terror,
Let me touch your lucid skin
Fore you freeze me with a kiss.
On the outer rim
things rush in:
birds
pull the receding
surf, peck foam and sand,
mine the salt suds for life.
In winter I stay
for these sea things.
Inland, life loses the blue light
and a tideless cold
prevails.
Here, I sink
into the roar of ocean,
feel the rasp of scalloped art,
hear the piping of small
triumphs, found.
The plane takes you away
And
Lots of vacant space
Appears to be around:
In the bedroom, in the house,
In the city.
I come to realize how hard
And
Almost unbearable it is to have
So many lonely hours
In the day, in the night,
In eternity…
Separated with oceans
And
Miles, we become wiser.
Troubled thoughts vanish,
Leaving room for
Hope and love.
Left to wither, hidden away in wardrobe dark
Comely, flocculent, desperately worn wrap
Save memories; winter and days in the park
For it may be again, form and taste overlap