untitled (2)
You and your blue eyes,
hiding away all your lies;
now I know better.
just think, type, submit.
every poem is anonymous.
he was twenty year
old boy, who lived with girl in
small Mars colony.
she completed him,
once. Lost, High, alone, broadcast
from Mars Shuttle Five
Lighting cigarettes
as the last hover sailboat
made port and anchored.
sense of adventure
defeats standard high jinks of
counting revolutions.
what takes overboard?
watching the Suns rise and set
create and destroy.
passion sustains them
mid rage and then comity.
she sees right through him.
or, more precisely
the view from the Solitude
of her escape ship.
grasp this concept now:
wife gone, no why or how. he'd
go if she'd allow.
struggle to see what's
simple to me, don't you know?
"i can't let you go."
d u a l i t y killed
the man. "forget about her."
no one understands.
hints where she went?
declared, "See You Space Cowboy...
Spike for President."
at 1:57 PM
i tend to lie when
i say i'm okay, so you
should know cloudy days
are the worst, not because
of the grey, but because they
used to be yours, love.
at 8:18 PM
a wise man once said
"all songs are sad songs, if you
know how to listen"
at 1:48 AM
you can doubt it, but
i'm not seeking physical
intimacy-- not
really. i just want
to be anchored to someone
outside of myself.
at 10:08 AM
i saw you lurking
in my tree, i said come back
you are not that far
gone, but sullen bird,
you're blinking a pale eye and
holding the branch close
at 12:59 AM
i try to be less
awkward, but you inspire a
loss of self-control
at 10:36 PM
I dreamed of your lips
just now. I wonder will they
touch mine this weekend
at 8:45 AM