Square One

Hangovers and Pancakes.

Trees and tall foreign birds.

I return
to capture past victories
only to realize the defeat
of me,

in me.

Brazilian babes shouting.
Robin
talking to me
about shoes,
or clothes….
I don’t remember…
because
it was was Robin fuckin’ Williams.

Best day of my fuckin’ life.

But.
I am here
now

Again.

Not my best day.
But a good day.
A damned
Good day.

Love
Lust
Life…
MEAT.

All fighting inside of me.

All
Losing.

But

I

Win,
when I submit.
to you.

Opening

a silence is rising.

a storm is gathering.

birds are huddling.

and a fire is rising,
inside.



a deep rumbling rolls across the cool grey sky
echoing perhaps, my own depths…


a flash!
and the tempest breaks.



a deluge

an awakening


oh, what dreams may come….

oh,  what dreams WILL come.

sweet perfection

the rattle of happy windows.

a whirl of bronze and yellow....
scratching,
and rustling.

jasmin and bougainvillea-
vainglorious till the end,
sigh under a cool breeze,
fading with dignity,
into this quilted pageant of decay.

and Night whispers
at midday,
"yes, you already know my name"

you look so fine

traipsing through the treeline...
gliding
with such grace....
or
was that me?


the hearth beckons,
cackling songs of last winter:
lovers' vows of the succour to come...
but i yearn
yet
to touch your ghostly presence
feeling
along my skin in the darkness.


are you ready?