Sunday, October 09, 2005


While waiting for the night to fall, I look
At what the clouds are doing overhead;
While getting ready to turn down my bed
(In favour of another? No, you took
All thought of such a cozy little nook
Right out of my conniving, wistful head),
I think of all the journals I have read,
And work through information from a book.

What I have read this evening comes to this:
These writers have described with wit and verve
Their level lives, not much like this abyss,
My own life, which requires less love than nerve.
I wait to be awakened by a kiss,
But certainly a gentle touch will serve.

Our Hearts, Part 16

Friday, October 07, 2005


Despite late praise and sly, misguided thoughts,
Despite the darkness and the gelid cold,
We manage to get by. What we are told
And what we know are disconnected plots
Within this story. Doctors give us shots
For other things, with penicillin – mold,
Such wonders from the future, but they hold
No cure for this, so we cut our own knots.

The signs appear, as we have seen before,
As many and as various as sins.
I forget some things, but remember more:
Between the noises and the light, noise wins
And, contemplating gestures that we store
For later use, we are the world which spins.

Our Hearts, Part 15

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Some Worm

I wish the letters we exchanged were burned:
The flame would light the summer sky for weeks,
And bring a healthful colour to my cheeks.
I wish that neither one of us had yearned
For something neither one of us had earned
Through arduous endeavour on tall peaks,
Among jet-setters, or with drug-crazed freaks,
Or watching closely how some worm had turned.

I wanted everything, and told you so,
As foolishly as you, who told much less,
Told me much more than I wanted to know.
I falter through this broad, unordered mess;
You make attempts to soothe me with a show
Of love; answering, I can only guess.

Our Hearts, part 14

Wednesday, October 05, 2005


All right. You're weary and you've had enough,
And I should quit this valueless attack
Upon your nerves and virtue. Things look black,
So when the going gets a little rough
You slip away. I understand: a bluff,
You seem to think. However, the great knack
In calling bluffs is aces, not a stack
Of self-help books. The aces make you tough.

Here, aces are good questions about needs,
Desires, and plans for six or seven days,
For all the books a quiet woman reads
Will not explain what set my heart ablaze
Or tell her how this dark despair just feeds
That fire. Ask questions; war is not a phase.

Our Hearts, part 13

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

A Final Ordinary Invitation

How is it that we two so seldom meet?
I sent you invitations, you declined;
I watched for you, but might as well have been blind,
Watched where you work, and visited your street;
I filmed cafés where you've been seen to eat
And checked the prints with microscopes; I lined
Your building's walls with crude suggestions, signed
With my own name; I gave the doorman wheat.

No foolish bribes or careful plans I tried
Provided me with access to your home
Or to your company. You have denied
My earnest pleas. About my lips, now, foam
Begins to show. Please, this is not just pride!
I shall try spells. A friend mentioned a gnome.

Our Hearts, Part 12

Monday, October 03, 2005

Remember Everything

This morning I awoke to nothing. Glad,
I went about my daily chores with cheer,
Expecting nothing, counting on the sheer
Cold emptiness to fill my day and add
Room to my life. Then everything went bad.
Remembering, I let you have a tear,
Resentful that a thought of you, my dear,
Should ruin this sweet, empty day I'd had.

No matter what I say, I shan't forget
Even one thing about you. Say good-bye,
Deny me, question my intentions, let
The love you kept alive by wishing die,
Be kind only to others. I regret
Nothing, remember everything, grave, sly.

Our Hearts, Part 11

Sunday, October 02, 2005

Who Owns the Sunlight

Create the darkness, making midnight seem
As bright as noon by taking down the sun
And wearing it inside your breast, as one
Who owns the sunlight. Take its brightest beam,
Conceal it, tell us it was just a dream
And that the dream is, heaven help us, done,
And cut the morning into ribbons, spun
In shadows by a solitary gleam.

The light is yours, the darkness is all yours.
I lose myself within the ribboned light
You cautiously allow me. There are wars
Among us here, those stranded in the night,
For moments near you. Each of us explores
The darkness, swaying between sleep and fright.

Our Hearts, part 10