Listen…
Commas chase the apostrophes
Through long grass
And stars
And seagulls waking me
In embraced
Goodmornings
To lull my lines
Into happy sentences
To glimpse
With ears wide open
Into four digits
Blinking
Silently
Category: love
Coffee Mugs and an Umbrella (day 958)
We smiled and held hands
Walking through the rain
With a dollar store umbrella
Bending backwards at the knees
But that’s ok
Because we’ve got our Vancouver
Take away coffee mugs
Gripping tightly to the warm feeling
That’s slowly enveloping
This Saturday morning
Satisfaction
My Brow, Your Brow (day 953)
How do you commit to someone
To accept one entirely?
For it isn’t just a walk about
Strolling arm in arm…
Nor is it even a moment laughing
To which the poke’s about.
When I sleep, I do not know
What the murmuring’s about.
And walking gaily, all alone
I shouldn’t dare to stop.
Nor when I sleep in my lone bed
Best guess I’m zig-zag hogging
Is it just when my brow’s a furrowed
That I must dig down deep…
Or when I’m afar, a lonesome distance
Away from my fair damosel?
For strong I am, a soldier here
A valiant man of fortune
And when I catch a glimpse of that
Which doesn’t mesh with thyself,
Is it my duty to embrace distaste?
Or fare me well, when I am proud
To turn my head and trod
Into horizon, into the end, farewell! Be off! Be gone!
No. It isn’t that.
This is not the way.
This is not my heart’s desire.
For my own brow,
And your worn brow,
Are forever joined to cherish.
So I do now know what comes of me,
What begs me to be done.
It’s simply a hand of mine, outstretched and outlaid
Accepting another’s sun, vast, wild, and aglow
In peace, enjoyment.. conquest ho!
We run together, apart.
Free to be a memory,
Or a child in incubation.
Free to hide, and free to glow,
And free to bring the world to me.
Free to hold and free to love,
And free to be with me!
Dropped from a Thorn (day 941)
How do you love without losing
Without spreading open hearts and tears
Like eyes closing, it’s ending in silence
And personal crushing sinks in
But I, the monster, sinking it in
Scream out like bats whipping through night air
A full moon lurks beyond vision
Unknown and omnipresent; thoughts and sight
Writing my love letters
With blood dropped from a thorn
Splattering into a vial
Collected for these poems
I do not remember or recall
Or recede into a sheltered abyss
I do not wash my skin clean
But I am purity, spread open and sheen
Vancouver (day 932)
This city is turning into a love affair
Vancouver, saturated still pullin’ for more
Romance so deep it cuts as the thorn sews
Addictive in the Audrey Hepburn
Black and white kind of way
As if every breath I take leaves trails
Tracing my journey from lover’s edge to lover’s gaze
Big obscene button’ed-up and felted with a liner
Concealing secret pockets holding prohibition’s decision
With unnecessarily charming courtesy
Waiting around the thick-rimmed leather-soled sidewalk corners
As if I should recognize you
I should know that warm gaze and coy smile
Playing with my fancy as I bow
Making my way forth
Arm in arm with another happy day I’ll write home about
Chronicling my romantic love affair
With this lovely city, Vancouver
Old Favorite Sweater (day 930)
I’ve unconditionally surrendered my old favorite sweater
It’s ok, I like her
But… there’s something about it
There’s a beat-up-rusty-truck memory
With worn seats – yellow foam surprises
You know, a once-was-navy-blue bench seat
Shift-knob-black that knows my sentimental touch
Caressing like I’ve driven her well
Like I’ve taken care not to drip gas-o-line
Checked the oil twice a month
And kept the tires at an even thirty five p-s-i
Perhaps the memories are shared with
These in-animate things
These pieces of fabric and steel-workers toil
That warm those chilling days
That don’t quite sit flush the whole way down
Letting familiar drafts rush up the back
Hands in my pocket
Perhaps this is why I smile when she’s wearing it
After all, it’s alright to let these things
Live a life of their own
To sit me down and coo in my ear
Hot chocolate and unconditional
Kind of love
Into An Envelope (day 924)
Conscious slipped into the envelope
Daring the nocturnal feat like wisdom on ice
Memories flip-flop over the landscape
Wooden circle stains hovering dangerously close
To Turkish tea
Little glass handle-less cups
I’d melt a single sugar cube
Balanced on a mismatched spoon
Through big bay windows
I’d get distracted with cats
Hushed away by crazy-hairs
But beautiful foreign lovelies
To my journey’s eyes
I would reach out and touch
With my curious eyes
I’d watch patrons, their rituals
Some hipsters would come in
Groups of them, shattering serenity
With chess, checkers… what else was there?
What else did there need to be?
Sweet eyes, dimples
High waisted 70s chitter-chatter
There was a couple I loved from afar
Full of love and soft mumbles
That sat in different spots each day
Depending on direct power
The second day I took their seat
Where they had sat when
I had fallen in love
The first day at that joint
Cheers darling, I had to say hello
I love your guitar, your dimples
I love language as it rolls off your tongue
Easing my weary shoulders down
Below this shading summer tree
My new folded philosophy
Glimpse Of Sharing (day 912)
I am unafraid to love
To catch my sideways glances
That leave my habits aglow
Fragments that caress imagination
Tipping over the empty jars
That glow with evanescence
Curtly labelled memories
I don’t break glass
I tye dye stickers
And write fancy hearts
Around magical names
Like ‘elexir’ or ‘potion’
That stick to the windows
Of empty jars
Call it a reason
A lazy r that rolls off the tongue
Slipping into evening gowns
With a warm cup of tea
A sombre evening left be
Let be
So be
I’m unafraid to spell it out
Remind you of a moment
A glimpse of sharing
To open the windows
Left empty and void
Of stickers and butterflies
Filled with empty hearts
To Harbor (day 909)
It is hard to be away,
To waltz down the street
Without your hand in my elbow.
To eat alone.
Your face my thoughts company.
With moments of clarity
Sparking the fire
Inside my soul.
It’s harder to slip
Into cold sheets at night
Without knowing
When next you shall be waiting,
Giving, expecting.
Warm breath tickling my nape.
Warm smile to curb my blues,
Warm kitchen to feed my soul.
And when last I find grace,
Will harbor – my old bones –
Be welcome to thine dear heart?
What To This Love (day 906)
Did you design
My heart so pure
So reckless its pursuit
As love and laughter
Were sought to
Hold forever after
As it were
To lay me down
Beside such tender angel
My heart it beat
Like dancing feet
Strong laid wooden floor
What to this love
I heard above, nay saw above
Clouds parting for thy sun
That hit us both;
Shone angels eyes and
Filled in dear mine own
