Wednesday, April 11, 2018

April Draft #11

I needed a break from the commissioner,
                                                              a peaceful man
found using violent words, 
                                              more used than using
& not necessarily
                                                      by the words
peaceful words
                                             in violent ways

the dancing little lover
                                            you call a lousy salesman
on a bike chased 
                                    by monster trucks
in love with the concept
                                           more than the execution
a pun torturing me with smiles
                                         I guess we have to build
a room with only walls of air
                                          indulgence ain’t no
armored car
                        I heard your mistress say
to empty whatever mind is
                           from the need to spray
to meet in an exception
                          must I wear the clothes of rule?
the notes I take 
                           are seldom musical
but the rests between are
                            I’ve been the mourner
to move on…..
                                               & back
to the one
                                     and you may ask
was the running away 
                                worth the getting caught
“taste your own medicine”
                                   can be a door or wall.
If I wish you were easier to love
                                   I must always ask
How can I be easier to love?

I couldn’t brag about being seen as loving
Words that are too harsh: 
                                             Do we have to call 
ourselves damaged to do something about it?
Eco-Ego, Ego-Eco
                                Eros-Ego, Eros-Eco
(no eronomy but erology!)
Why not say it’s love that got us 
                                               moving today
& not the kind that couldn’t
                               be had by an object
a cry you heard 
                               but couldn’t read
& that doesn’t mean you didn’t heed
or stopped summer from going to seed
minutia disarmed,
                                like an atrophied 
suicide muscle

& perhaps could take the form of
oh so gallant womb envy!
(extending, of course, to the childless)

Not me tired, no face husband dear!
you said some things I needed to hear
skirting round the heart 
                                     shaped intimacy bed
content to my form, 
                                 form to my content
too old for 
                              the kitchen sink strategy
Oh how you made a molehill of my mountain,
the superficial 
                                arrogance or relevance
I could defend as shy, if backwards
                                     and perhaps somewhere
there’s a mountain for you
                                              that’s a molehill for me
and maybe I can, if not help,
                                                 at least not hurt 
the commissioning break

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