Crawling along inner passages
To remote locales
I’ve never touched
But always fed
I am filled with forbidden passion
Unbid and skeletal
In a full moon sitar
Keeping me up at night
Eyes stare calmly
Dancing a slow waltz
Through a barren rose garden
And two lines of benches
Marked with names
Of those came here before.
It’s been two years since I last heard from you,
I’ve been wondering if there’s been some trouble
Flirting the edges of your peaceful existence
I’ve always known you to have.
How is Martha? Cindy and I always chat about how lovely
Of a woman she is – and of course you are, my friend.
I frequently think back to our college days.. Do you?
Do you remember that night we sat on the patio at the Gate
And drank ourselves silly?
I think you were going downtown to some punk bar
Which I accompanied you on.
Do you remember jumping into/over that tree, down the drop?
I’m surprised we didn’t break bones doing that.
How big was that drop? Must have been about 5 feet or so..
Of course you have memories. I think we’ve talked about this before.
My heart is humble these days, perhaps it’s my inner peace,
Perhaps it’s also my slow submission towards some light.
I see that light in you when we come and visit.
Do you know what I’m talking about?
I find myself believing more and more in the spiritual world,
In listening to energy around us.. I think it’s only in my nature
To want to also influence the energy around us,
But if you ask me, this is dangerously close to necromancy.
Well, that or being God.
We’ve never talked about God before. What is your God?
Hope all is well my friend. I look forward to hearing from you.
Your ol’ friend,
Can you climb into my memory,
See the ghosts that I see?
I’ve waited for a sign to be
Alone in simple harmony.
But as my days turn dark inside,
As my simple answers flirt
I crave compassion, empathy,
And hope all shall carry me.