The Divorce (1)

These days
the tears fall with grace
The beads
be hallowed seeds
that trace
aged lines
down my face

And all I to see
wet lashes like latticed lace
Fog a future I effortlessly erase

I sit low on my throne
emptied, artificial love
Beggard from giving my heart
to anyone
Who’d hold it tight
for a night
for the time I’d be numb
See it returned depleted
being the cheated one

part 2

you wanna know have i moved on
have you been abandoned
if there is room left here in this void
into which ive screamed and poured
our record; dreams and saviors
all gone, rubbished and stale
miles of emptied railway and highway
between us; its been a ride
but i think it may be time
ill consider coming home

Maybe

Maybe it’s time
To pick up this pen
Again
I’ve come hard
To empty pages
Begging to be writ
With no words
On my tongue
In my breath
Bereft of motion
Emotion
For the life severed
Rent
Maybe it’s time
To pick up this pen
Again
Welcome the age
Of Incense

Brittled bones contract in the cold

Brittled bones contract in the cold
Of a dying river’s bed
Pacing between the gods and dreams
Hoped then unremembered

The feet’s red rust encased with dust
Made sour the miles before
Now brought they here, the mem’ried fear
That I have not the more

time – I measured from dusk to dawn
Quick slipped those miles away
Between these trees and river’s breeze
Exposed in light of day

Were but I here in lack of light
Bereft of birds their song
Could I erase the pace – the space
I’ve come, but now too long

How I delight in lover’s light
Ill gotten in distress
But love light’s loss is just the cost
I sneeze so I be blessed

Here, I’ve found the lack of light
a chancel to my woe
So I baptize this moonlit night
With writhing lover’s throes

#2

How long can I go – travel through this hell
Just to see if I can unring this bell
It’s been ringing for twenty odd years
or so it seems

From a forgotten year, it reared it’s horned head
I slept next to you as you wept in our bed
And wondered if you knew it was over then
I think I did

So now, this, to whom should I address this last write
This news from a ghost you didn’t know had died
Will seem a shock to you, I know
and to everyone else

What will they see when our two hearts are breaking?
What will they see as our two hearts are breaking?
What will they see now we are breaking?
What will they see?

Intoxication


My love,
You love the fruit of my vines
The sweet intoxication – blood huéd wine
I produce without soil amidst buttes and scarred rocks
With just want, will, and worry from what I have not

To give,
I do, no thoughts weary mine
Rock-dented dour brow which seethes with sublime
Liquor; I languor, but to you I taste sweet
Then consume from my rib the last of my meat

Now ragged, rapéd bones do pierce my side
Through eyes bursted bled blood clots, I see the divine
Who loves the new vintage, the seed from my hand
Placed in the soil my love never planted.