you can wait
there.
i don't love you.
the cold and the rain
is where you belong.
Winter Rose
beneath barren
trees
winter rose blossoms yellow
a gift from La Nina
alone
it is good
to be alone
quiet and orderly
if you can stand
being alone
no one to tell
"come see this"
"have a listen"
if they were there
they would not care
so what's the difference?
sit in silence
and clear your mind
listen for
the universe
to sing
Memorial
no winner no
losers
all the same
victors and vanquished
blend together
in the darkness
to a twinkling
of star light
The Days of
The Week
one day follows
another
each of equal blandness
there goes a zombie
there goes another
somewhere a lone wolf
howls at the moon
it is less frightening
than the thought of tomorrow
cold cash
money is a
living thing
so is the polio virus.
money flows where it will.
so does the sewage under the street.
money comes in many colors
and makes eyes grow bright and wide.
so do pills that make you high.
money can feel cool and crisp
when the bills are fresh from the bank.
so does a whore who knows her skill
and can perform like an assembly line.
these same bills can form a tube
and be used to snort coke from a mirror.
money can pay your debts
or help you create some.
you can't eat it or smoke it or fuck it
but you can use it to buy what you want.
it feeds governments and fuels wars.
it can make or break a man or woman.
money gives to the poor
but gives more to the rich.
money is a jungle.
money is a swamp.
money is a beast
money is a master.
money will buy you
the semblance of happiness
a house
a spouse
even a child.
money will pave your way
a golden brick road
to glitz and power
and even the grave.
you can't take it with you
but you can leave a monument
and have your servants
walled up with you
to serve you in the afterlife.
paper mansions and funeral money
can be burned
to send you fast cars and lusty lovers
in the land of the dead
be it a cloud city
or a place of cold and mist
where among the cold dead
cold cash seems best to fit.
Twenty
Years Later
I ate the man
you married.
He is somewhere inside me.
Devoured.
What have you done
with the woman
I married?
She disappeared in a cackle
of gray hair.
I long for the girl I married.
Does she long for the man
she wed?
Both are gone.
Long gone.
We are stuck
with each other
instead.
Farewell To
Thee
A part of me
just died.
I was a good part and I will miss it.
True, it was riddled with cancer,
but what part isn't these days,
more or less?
I shall choose to remember it
as it was in youth
even after it is gone.
Those were whole days,
filled to the brim
with sunshine and happy thoughts.
And tomorrow?
We will not speak of it.
There is enough anxiety
of separation already.
Reprieve
The pendulum
swings,
yet life does not end.
What a blessing
this moment is.
But watch out for gravity.
It pulls all things down,
and that pesky blade
will return
just as sharp,
and no doubt closer
next time.
When It
Rains It Pours
happiness became
a habit
when you were near,
chasing away the memories
of all the dark years.
so much sunshine
after clouds,
it seemed it would never
rain again.
then it all came down.
it all came down.
we got stuck in the downpour,
drops falling fast and hard.
Tokyo Rose
in the cold
streets of a rainy Tokyo
pedestrians splash through puddles
as they walk each in his or her own
unique form of isolation.
in the apartment block above
a girl with dark hair and eyes
stares out the window
at the ant-like creatures
struggling through the downpour.
the thoughts of the many
each follow their own logic
and each mind sees its own path
whether it be to love or work
or a dry towel and a bowl of warm noodles.
the girl with the dark eyes
sees the crowd but does not follow.
her mind is elsewhere,
a garden erupting in fury of red flowers
among snow as white as her breast.
she does not see or feel me
but my mind is upon her
a warm draft from the heat vent
bending the down on her arms.