A Going Crazy Two

headlights-fsSitting here reading
It’s been two pages
And I don’t remember a word

I am with you
As if walking
As if I’ve said all I can say
As if I love you
As if that’s not enough
Not anymore
I don’t know what you want me to say
I don’t know how to go back and fix
Whatever it is I broke
I don’t really know
But you expect me to
Understand you don’t see
How a man’s head can be cement
How his ears can be bunged
How his heart might not and
Wonder why beat in unison
In this case yours

Haven’t I been paying
Enough attention to you
I haven’t wanted to do
Enough of what you do
Though the ground you
Walk on is always a surprise

But

I have.
I have!
I have two and two
A going crazy two to
Understand

Sitting here I would
Desperately not knowing
The difference between two
Better than I have to
Short of being

Is that what you want?
I ask
No
You say

But it is
Isn’t it
You want me to be two
To give up the one
And only for the only one
You want whatever I
Should know it is

Understanding, though…
Isn’t that a truck in the middle
Of a dark, rainy, dreary night
Without headlights around a curve
As if the light of the moon is
Enough is never enough
And more than enough is what
Will wear the brakes if the hill
Is steeper than the dark is
Too much for the moon.

You don’t understand
And that’s what I’ve been
Saying I don’t either
As if it should have meaning
Enough to be left
Unsaid
But then, it’s raining
And it always has been

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A Going Crazy Two

Deep Blue

Blue RoseHaving fallen into blue before	 	 
In dreams on good days	 	 
On bad days we have as	 	 
Gently as possible slid on	 	 

Either way the blue was blameless	 	 
Our feelings comfortable, happy	 	 
To be within enthralled in	 	 
The easy placidness of it

	And somehow, somewhere you
	want to scream, screech even
	chalk across slate 
	soul across existence	 	 

Two Indigo Buntings flew	 	 
Over nearby hills, along ridges	 	 
Under a copper red sky	 	 
Settling to form two blue pools		 
 	 	 
Flying with them you grasp	 	 
The unknown where exactly	 	 
Flying through intense clouds	 	 
Where even rainstorms are good

	you are troubling, boiling
	stumbling, almost falling even
	sliding across water
	breathing across living
	 	 
But it was in the landing	 	 
We mostly treasured	 	 
Asking was it worthy for you	 	 
Or was it merely the	 	

	Seeping into desultory day
Deep Blue

He Woke Screaming

He woke screaming at the daylightunmade bed
wrapped in sweat soaked torn sheets
remembering things little things big things
remembering things he didn’t know he’d forgotten
remembering the love he thought he wanted

scratching the pustule of a long ago romance
he fell backwards into a field of unfinished dreams
like the dark flowers of weeds – beautiful but unwanted
as a gasp holding his breath catching in his throat

Like the deep breaths of lavender silk
corroded with daylight leaving
leaving
leaving the cusp of a daydream
leaving his everyday neverday life
leaving the luxury of a love long wanted

the itching was more than persistant
within the realm of a distant prophet
and holding his breath he kissed gently
but there was only the dust left behind

He Woke Screaming

Requiem #47

Circling Golden Eagledaylight scratches cold brick wall
merging dream and silent call
gold winged eagle circling prey
dealing careful bleak of day

screaming blue blur into new
for nothing gray under dew
flailing whispers whisk to night
soulful over air of light

easing moon from its breath
sending dark to its death
and longing gay of sighing wile
careful over pitch and file

searching you on stolen road
finding love has not been sold
holding love with rugged kiss
warming souls in sunlight’s tryst

would that I had loved you more
letting soul reach spirit’s core
rather than build wall of brick
and shiver cold in corner sick

Requiem #47

By the Way, the Bears Won

Nose first he hit the stairsfans at Chicago's Soldier Field
hard cold cement meeting
becoming cold bloodied cement
for he slid face first across four more
after falling.

He began raising himself
Pushing and pulling until
he was able to reach for the railing
till standing, but lost his grip
tumbling backward.

His head came within inches of me
I saw the grimace spread across his face
head bounced against one and another stair
I looked into his bloodied face wondering
if he felt pain.

Eyes looking nowhere in particular
with a sickly smile frozen on his face
he said to me or no one in particular
“Damn I slipped and spilled my damn beer.
Where’s my beer?”

Blood oozing from seven or eight
cuts and scrapes on his face. A mess.
more blood than could be wiped away
Crawling away, “better not do that again,”
he slowly mumbled.

By the Way, the Bears Won