love stories.

it is not always epic,
not always heartbreaking,
not always a story for the children.

sometimes, i don't know how often,
but when it happens for real,
it will last forever in that second.
even though it may already be finished.

i fear my love story is already over.
my old loves were great,
now all that exists are the seconds
when it was real.
when it was something like the truth.

it was hard to recognise,
i think, because there isn't much truth
for children to see.
that's not what fairy tales are for.

but who knows,
these children believe in the truth.
even if they won't know what it is.

life is funny.

Feel all right? Feel all right.
Protected from flame? Protected from flame.
-Kenward Elmslie & Joe Brainard

this practice distracts you,
and you don't feel safe.
please, know that you're not alone.
at least, not for now.
i can't make promises about tomorrow.
(don't hate me)
i know, i feel further and further away,
but it won't last forever. (the good or the bad)
but for now, can you tell me you will
feel all right? feel all right

until tomorrow. but i can't make promises.
it was never my strong suit.
i feel you are too strong for me,
i think i will give in.
don't hate me for it,
i know you love me for my strongness.
honestly, this danger feels wrong,
somehow, don't ask me.
i'm just glad. i hope i can keep you
protected from flame? i promise, protected from the flames.

eternal truths.

Batman is whispering in the wind;
The cans are jewelled with the stars
-Henri Coulette

the city has no sleep. it runs
and runs, regardless of the bodies
sleeping in its gutters.
casting dreams here is unthinkable,
for they are untouchable, like something
in a dream. this life is one of trial and error,
the best before date is rubbed out, and
those buried deep inside it know they
are alone. if only
batman was whispering in the wind,

there might be some hope. but
they know they will always be alone.
because the city is cold and unforgiving,
it has no heart to speak of,
it will live long after you are gone,
brittle at the smallest touch.
they are sleeping still, those
ones who know this truth, because
they know their immortality is not real,
and the cans they hold are only jewelled with the stars.

lessons in history.

Dreaming of this I was when they spoke to me.
Lovers they bragged of, long since dead and gone.
-David Ferry

they say it repeats itself. has it not been listened to?
it is for this that we keep our eyes open,
our hearts awake, untouched
but we will never learn.
it was a long time ago, the first time it happened,
my heart was awake, untouched,
unbroken. the world was still,
when the ghosts of my past rose up,
and i could finally see that they were touched and broken,
dreaming of this i was when they spoke to me.

spoke to me of the past
noone else said it would happen that way.
it's not their fault they will never listen
to the lessons in history, from before
the world was touched and broken.
but that time is passed, and it is the right now
that i must listen to. or that is what they tell me,
the ones who dared to live. my ghosts.
they tell me of this, and of the
lovers they once bragged of, long since dead and gone.

everybody knows.

a found poem.

with unusual violence, a king keeps his title
hook-jawed and aggressive,
hanging on for an hour or so,
tongue flicking and horns back in a gesture of
such sympathetic magic
as if struck

they might posture and stomp,
flock and join in the ritual,
might aid in killing the lion,
overmarked with fine-line scratches.

gods have their own lives.

it's been days since i've seen the sun.

why is it that the old religions
have transcended into childhood myths.
your forest nymph climbs into the bed
of sun gods and kings.

she's ready to take the world,
but i know she will never leave her forest.

the stars are not so old,
cannot see my thoughts,
even if i wish to dream.
it is all inevitable,
the ending.

some would say that
nothing ever ends.
i beg to differ.
with each new passing minute,
the world is different than
it used to be.

but where did my world go?
my myth is not your own.
it has no immortality,
no surreal beauties.

my myth is just the stars.

past times.

i remember when the world was young

and i thought i was too.

when anyplace was better than this

but the world didn't know it.

i don't think i did either.

the world was smaller,

and i could fix all the problems.

all the problems.

you and your problems were smaller too.

but i didn't know it.

i don't think you did either.

the chance of change?

now we know better?

slim to none.

the truth is the truth,

and some things you might not remember,

but you never forget that.

tales from the sun.

you are just a demi-god
and you wonder,
are you invincible?
or just another human

perhaps your sun shines a little brighter
somedays.
because you can walk across its surface
and live to tell the tale
but us humans won't believe you

because the sun is just the sun,
and the stars are untouchable,
just like you.

you are just a demi-god,
and you are not invincible.
you are just another human.