1.
I am sick, to the point of shedding pale
A pale the color of stale milk, of termite eggs
A scabbed pale, a pale becoming feeling
Becoming nauseous, becoming tension, becoming cut
Like two dead friends and a telephone wire
Or a body caught in white noise
Or the filmy gloss of a TV webbed in static
Frozen in the menopause of transmission
A Swan Lake without Tchaikovsky
A Dali without inflection or brilliance
And the violence inside me explodes
Like a car bomb in a named square
Or a charioteer wrecking against the
yellowing wall of my being
And my comfort
The sanctuary of my pirated life
Is quickly, knowingly, relentlessly disintegrating
Like control in the stratosphere
Or a ceiling fan in a burning building
Bred to become an eventual sleeve of disaster
Of chaos, of ruin, of disease
For you are too far away
And the moon we once watched
Is becoming more like the gut of a freezer
Or a dead bulb in the hotel room
Where we first made love.
2.
Why does it have to become a memory
Why can't it always be
An endless feeling
Caught in the funnel of a canvas
Where the paint never dries
And the medium wears me
Like a smile in a parade of found men
But instead the ink runs
And flouts me like fur coats on a mannequin dedicated to display
To sale, to the ritual and disease of camouflaging intention
Oh love
Can't your body stay warm in my mind
Can't the colors of a deep midnight
Rosined against your skin
Dry, harden, solidify, and remain
Why does the memory of you and I
Alone on the shore of our favorite ocean
Become like the tide of yesterday
A shadow in cycle
The trimming of a relic magazine
Discarded like a crescent moon
Abandoned like a dying widow
Dry like the lips of something full, bruised, and hapless
Why can't it all remain
In the still of perfection
A framed moment
Where god collides with himself in a mirror the color of dead glass
And becomes nothing more
Then soft, orchid symmetry
Between two human beings
Turning with love.
3.
We are walking
To wherever we end up
Under a red storm the color of bridge iron
Frozen strawberries, warm lips, X
And the air is naked and empty
The dry, sore rain remains chained
And the night stays lovely, and heavy,
Heavy like a closed curtain in a glass room
Where two dreamers slowly die
And I am wanting to say something
you've never heard before
Something that'll make you love me more
Something that'll take you far away
And I am wanting nothing more
Then to translate the supernova of this feeling
Into words, into a touch
Into anything you could crawl into and come alive
And I am wanting to collapse
To be caught in the turnstile of this moment forever
To throttle the clock
To escort time to the guillotine
To still the moment of us
And walk forever with you
To wherever we end up.
4.
I fear nothing about our love
Only my weakness, my heel
That rotting in my head
The Alzheimer of being
The ink in my memory fading
Like jeans in a top drawer
Becoming worn threading in dawning dreams
Like light drowning in a pool of midnight
And I'm trying to jar you
To jar me
To save my favorite picture of you
Smiling against a shore
Against a moon
Against the wet sheets and the peeling wallpaper
Smiling against the world, against time, against an end
And becoming the only strand of turning, eternal color
In a nightmare where nothing lasts forever.
5.
When I come home
Could we leave this all behind?
Could we move into a lighthouse by a glass sea
Or the bell tower of a forgotten monastery
Somewhere deep in the throne of an old mountain?
It can be anywhere really
Just as long as it's a somewhere we can call our own
And I can wake up next to you.
6.
This is Our Love
Lying on naked bellies
Peering over the edge of the world
Laughing
And tossing pebbles
Because you and I
Will never be here again.
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