Some mornings even grilled sweet
yams and maple
Remind me of Paris mornings and
bridges over silent waters
To return, to stand wrapped snug
warm in my leathers
Alone at the point,
She told me I have to leave it
all behind
Focus on my Buddha and leave it all
behind.
Leave all behind, the things
Shiny detritus gathered along the
road
That flashsparkle caught my eye
chisels deep grooves into recollections
Carved into a sandy beach, a
canyon, a soul divide
Gathered now, spread dreamdusty
on dusty shelves.
And just go to a snowy hillside
where I ate my first valiums
Or stumblelatedrunk down dark
stairs to watch them dance mad
Wrapped in music that scared me.
And I
think of every thing Lemon Drop
Jacqui muttered
On quiet
nights filled with static and her voice and static again.
(even that letting go hurts to
think about…where will it go?)
She taught me to let go before I
make my first step.
To Paris, to somewhere.
To finding my own personal Buddha
before I leave.
******************************
Time and waves pass.
A smile.
What seems a quiet place
Metal buzzes deep in your head
even now, the light flashes
When your eyes close.
Some days, a happy place,
All the houses up the hill freshly
painted
sand is bright, brushed breeze
smooth.
Parrots line the gutter
Even in this land, the Assassins
dance.
it is as you wish
Until you share with an absinthe
stranger
that even images of pretty girls
skin
wrapped in gossamer silks,
wind-blown
in sand caked curves
Suspended in warm clear pools of
water
makes you sad somehow.
And you beg a generous friend to
not share and he screams back in love
FUCK YOU! YOU ARE NOT OLD YOU ARE
NOT DEAD
I decide where I send love.
You can’t refuse. You can’t say
no.
'... even if your love makes you
happy warm,
You still cringe inside, just a
cringe, just the tiniest tear seeps from inside
When images on the screen,
showshare a pressed cheek with
new love
Or two sit smiling in a tree
branch.
All proclaim the beauty of love
And the tiny tear comes, colored
tinge with sadness
And you move on.
Some parrots fly away, leave the
grey vacant hard of a concrete gutter.
You know when the last one flies
away, you are done
And you walk black heavy coated
down streets brown with swirling leaves
And it
is done.
And maybe in the morning it will
be a room without shadows
Sun brights in every corner…shadows
flee
And fresh ginger and bananas
That take
me to a hillside of the Wye and I stare
down at an ancient abbey.
