Be Careful with a Fool

I am thinking about that Thursday.
That night when you came over and we danced in my living room underneath cheap paper balloon lights.
We danced for three hours.
Your body like a reed and easy to ignite.
Years younger than me.
Nineteen was it?
I still feel kind of guilty but not really.

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It’s Complicated

Don’t you know the sky is falling? Can’t you smell the sea? It’s calling.
Blood boiling on a slow burn. Head rolling from these things I’ve learned.
This day is just apart from all others. Things we’ve done can never be discovered.
There are satellites and comets in the sky above. But all signs point to you my love.
Butterflies dead on the sand at the beach. Flew through the black and Neptune’s reach.
You are the only one for me it’s true. But why can’t I seem to convince you?

Daylight comes and your eyes they are grey. Hold back the sunshine, we don’t want it today.
With you in my arms so trapped we lay. Prison or sancturary, who’s to say?

All the fools in the world are here trapped in this dream.
Don’t call me a liar. Don’t call me your friend.
Just go on your way. Nothing here to defend.

Scorpio rising

I am tired of frivolous society, in which silence is forever the most natural and the best manners. I would fain walk on the deep waters, but my companions will only walk on shallows and puddles. — Henry David Thoreau, Journal

Wild Geese

Waking-Up-This-Morning

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver

Saw this on Frederick’s site and wanted to archive it. Just lovely.

Hard Feelings

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The sun retreats
And leaves twilight on these fractures
Precious raw stones
Umber, ochre, lavender, apricot, bistre
Sorrow is beauty too, inclusions

You’re hard, callous and you suit this place
The night falls in obsidian
We sit heavy and weighted
A fire shadowboxing, veiled eyes
Only the moon heard
I can’t remember any of it now
I just remember that something cracked, caved in
The gashes as deep as the canyon

You always gave me rocks instead of flowers.
Jade, labradorite, amethyst, core samples even
Flowers die, you said. Rocks mean I love you forever.

That day we set out, I looked back at Vegas glittering in the desert
looked and looked until it was gone.

September night

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In the rain, black metal sidewalks slick with the cares of day. Usually I am alone, sometimes thoughts but not lately. Train rattles and shudders.
In the rain, illuminated night sky. Sound of laughter, bicycle in the distance wends its way home somewhere. The dog trails behind.
You are of the day here in the brown fortress. Then when the night swells this place is mine.