Take my heart and leave my eyes
One hundred leagues away
There is just one ol’ teak tree
I stand beneath today
Leaves yellowing and trunk so white
Amidst the forest so green
Elephant tracks to the great Mekong
Ox grazing back and forth
My eyes have become the blurry vision
Of what they once used to see,
Fading sunlight in a white-washed
The deck has become stained
With forgotten footsteps,
Leaving only smears
As marks on my mind.
And I delicately touch rough bark
Encircling our plum tree,
Tracing lines from hither to tither
Like the vision I once used to see.
I could write your pages onto sheets of my unkempt bed
Slowly cycling the in-seam with the hem,
And rolling each corner up like a cigarette to smoke slowly
Because love here is so thick it’s impassable;
Between eyes of surrender and a heart of
I’m never letting go.
So I blot my pen into deep white sensories
Circumnavigating each prior night’s creases – expertly –
Until my final stroke has been felt and embraced
As if it were written upon thy own lined back.
I hung onto raindrops
That caressed a blurry,
Single paned window
Sitting empty in a dusty house,
Too tall for company.
I flicked white paint
Peeling along the border,
Imagining my memory
Washed away by a doorbell
That signalled good news.
Of course, a dream
For never has a swan been seen
Basking among scarred lands:
Desolate trees with
Children’s toys scattered,
Left behind in a moments rush
Towards a meaning to all this silence.
I hear the sounds of last night’s rain
Dripping off the guitar man upstairs
Like he’s drinking an unmarked bottle of wine
With candles stuffed inside
Green colored empties everywhere.
His pancake heart is shifting
As his torn-bottom baggy jeans scuff
His unease like a broken pencil
And no sharpener.
But two fifteen will buy a slow drip
In a soft-white ceramic self-logo
– Without refill – from a beanie-topped
Organic cycler that always smiles
And talks in soft tones to her cute co-worker
Humoring her choice in music.