the wall

The collage
that I know not how
had strung itself
on the wall of my nowhere
and was a caress,...
a wrench on the
outstretched arms of desire;
and where
my heart
the fool in my
castle of air
had many a time
sung lays of loss
in a bubble burst of innocence.

In that witness mute
to what we ever were
or could be,
in sepia
and in colour of violation
now oftentimes
I feel a loving tousle
a knowing whisper
that sometime
the bravest things
are what we never do

Blue Moon......once in a

 

 




 

sometime 

when you are a memory,
a pulsing beat,
alive
as a sweet trickle...
and I
gather myself
to the contours
of your dreams
strumming soft
a tender tattoo
with the fist
of my heart ;
when, through half- collapsed
tunnel of the past
shines the place
where love had laughed
for the last time.
Then, I,
cupping scalding hands
around dying embers
of the night
push another raft of hope
into that oceans of minutes--
my life--
and bobbing,unsteady,
know that
sometime for us to live
all we need
is broken hearts.