a huge and powerful ticking

 

 

 

And this,

they call melancholia;

body complaints and often hallucinations.

 

To be uproarious about

not being loved. Being far

too relaxed about it at 40

 

Now 50. Now the cultivated

infinity.

 

And I am writing this as an engine

to raise the classification. There

IS someone for me. Someone who

 

frequents fields and prairies.

Someone who plants pansies in April

in the same jeans

 

he will wear on his date

in paradise.

Reviews

[Marie Anzalone]

It is disarming, is it not? The closer we get to deserving someone humble enough to play in the dirt, the smaller that playing field gets. I have to keep believing though. I call it setting intention, you, "raising classification." There is that whole messy surrender thing though. And then some days, I would give it all to get back some chances; other days, I continue jettisoning expectations until all I am left with is the desire for soemone who makes me feel like I just set down this old rucksack and blend into their overgrown scenery. Someone who apprcaites the pansies I DO plant every April. Hopeful, my friend, hopeful.

[Tree]

If the saddness doesn't reach full bloom until fifty then I am in big trouble:) A sad but again beautiful, image of the dream. Excellent work, dana


Diego

[caesarkreshen]

your writing is starting to look like mine ha. infection.

[caesarkreshen]

was flipping through the pages again, see this is it. Needs words like THIS, mentions of age. Many Is.

This is really good though.

[Corset]

A landscaper! of course, why didn't I think of that? What is more sexy than a man who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty!? This is a wonderfully written poem, and I know there will be someone for me too, you know why? 'cause we are good damn people that's why!