Tag Archives: letters

Chapter 2 – A Week of Me

7 Sep

Sunday

It was dark

No one came out to play

Monday

It was snowing

At home we will stay

Tuesday

Lessons to learn

You are far away

Wednesday

Back to Rixuland

For fun and games

Thursday

Pizza at the asshole club

For my drinks, who will pay?

Friday

Prepare for tomorrow

Another weekend day

Saturday

No letters to send

None received

I love you, see you soon

Is what I used to say

Chapter 2 – Linger

4 Aug

I am sitting solemn

Listening long

To your memory

I see a girl

All dressed in green

She is dancing with you

And you are holding an angel’s hand

Or was it

The mushroom queen?

A solitary man indeed

Searching for his dream

In the shiny eyes of a girl

He once knew.

She has gone away.

Listen long

Sweet, dark man

In memory of me

The city in your eyes

Will not be deserted forever

Nor will the ghosts of that town

Linger.

Chapter 2 – His Pride

4 Aug

His pride

A youthful tongue of

Fire agate

His jealousy

A raging bull, red with

The honor of my name

His eyes

A green briar, luring

Innocents to love.

He lives by a code unknown to any other

Yet by the law

He makes amends for his greed and

Ignorance

Suffering the pain

In his own loss

Of innocence.

He is a man.

Gregarious and kind.

His smile is the joy of a thousand

Irishmen.

His embrace

Heals heartbreak and

Loneliness.

He is all of this and

Nothing less

He is my only cousin

And I love him.

Chapter 2 – Today

27 Jul

Today

The cemetery

Claimed three

The siren I’ve heard only

Once before

Sang of four

Seven souls slipped silently

Away

As I mailed my letters

As I wrote in the graveyard

As cursed the cold

Someone died today

Chapter 2 – The Dream Story

20 Jul

She sits

Faded green velvet chair

He stares

Through smoke filled air

The wallpaper looms

His eyes inviting

Her vision

Cloudy with drink

Spirits sent

And one white lily

More than handsome

Was this man’s beauty

And only in her dreams

He would come to her

She wouldn’t wait long

Her name he sang

A most exquisite sound

He spoke

And not in vain

With harsh determination

As in a dream

Her dream

Chapter 2 – From afar

13 Jul

My body often speaks about wanting

You

In strange ways it tells me to return to

You

I’ve only seen the kind of things I

Dream

On t.v. or in a magazine

I couldn’t even describe to you the

Scene

If you asked

Even now as I write

I can only think of you

And how far away you are

So instead of feeling alone

I recall the myth of loneliness

Instead of thinking of home

I’ll make a new one

In my heart for

You

From afar

Chapter 2 – A poem for the fax machine

13 Jul

The passing days are glorious centuries

This country permeates my boundless curiosity

Yet as I stand in the wake of my dreams

Or simply alone on the balcony

I cannot help but call your name

If only to hear my voice echo in the

Solitary darkness

A word it seems I’ve only written

Listen

Listen

Chapter 1 – Jumping Someone Else’s Train

16 Jun

A silver twist of the tongue

And I am yours

Half an eggshell resting at

The edge of your thoughts

Just where the grass stops

Growing and the tracks begin.

Your caboose is long in coming.

Your presence known in the traffic

Of two entire cities.

I am not the only one who waits

Just to see what lies beyond

Your miles of empty cargo on

Northern rails.

Chapter 1 – The Reaper and the Gardener

14 Jun

Just like ripe fruit

My dogwood flower fell

Was snatched up

By strange hands and

Dropped in a basket

To mingle with the

Fallen fruits of others

Passing this way.

Mine, the solid flower of ivory

Bound by silver chains of ancestry

Lost to a collector, a gathering

One of many; oblivious

To my single bloom.

Who will know me? Who will come

Into my secret garden to

Count my petals? Who carries the

Seed lost to a stranger?

Who will bury it once more?

Chapter 1 – Precious Core

15 May

Fingers I use to write

Crawl over the words

Your fingers have already written.

Friction between hand and paper

Creates heat

Your feelings burn, yet

My skin knows no blister of shame

Or pain with you.

No poems of self-destruction, please.

My letters not few

Drive themselves through white snow

Making way for the plow

Creating a path for

Would be pilgrims into

Untamed territory

Not yet explored

Or even invented

My pen cuts my brain

To its precious core.

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