Venus Framed

On a blue night sky
Venus,alone as usual
Appropriately framed
In an upside down triangle of  branches.

I think about you.

gh

Widow’s Peak

My heart races in a manner I can feel all the way to the back of my head on the pillow.  Caffeine and nicotine, it occurs to me, are likely responsible though I would never admit that to anyone. I’ve publicly proclaimed myself immune to the effects of those drugs.

Maybe my heart wanted me wide awake to see the mist rise off the lake. If that was the case, my heart should have been clearer with my mind, which started a race of it’s own shortly after realizing that it…we…me, my head, my heart…were all awake.  My heart is nostalgic.  It would no doubt liken the mist on the water to the way emotion moves through a body or something poetic like that and would head straight for the comfortable territory of slightly sad.  My mind is more pragmatic.  Soon as the fog clears, it begins its’ cataloguing of every dent, hole, crack and seized-up joint on the suit of armor I’ve been wearing all my life.

The phone says 4:47am. I wrap myself in a sweater (gift from my lover), pull on some track pants (gift from my lover), and step over shorts, 2 bamboo shirts, and a hemp hoody (all gifts from my lover) and slide out the side door on to the widow’s peak at the side of the cottage to light up -why not- another cigarette.

The sky looks alien. Orion’s Belt hangs so low, so close to the horizon, that i dub it a hip-hop sky. From up here I can see the lake top smooth and unblemished like the inside of her thigh and just as tantalizing.

Later on, when the mists disappear and the surface is kissed by the inevitable morning wind, the lake will talk.

Not on its own, of course.

The sun will rise over the trees and will reflect itself on to the ceiling that i will undoubtedly be staring up at. There on the ceiling in temporary ink, flashing and laughing, will be the question that i have sworn to NOT ask, that I refuse to ask, that I am afraid to ask:

Why? Why do you love me?

The sad thing, reader, is that she’s already answered. A few times, too.

I just keep forgetting what she says.

Learn to Pray

If you want to sing
You had better learn to pray.

If you want to dance
You had better learn to pray.

If you want to make love
You had better learn to pray.

If you want to do business
You had better learn to pray.

All these things taste better that way.

Caution

It isn’t a sin to have hope
But it is to sell it
And there’s no danger in seeking the truth
But there may be if you tell it.

Through

I’m not going through a hard time.
I’m going through life.
So don’t feel bad.

gh

More Lies I Tell Myself

I’m through, I like to tell myself
With acting out of fear.
A truth I like to sell myself
When night is drawing near.

Short

My skin
Is thin.

gh

Phone Tech

If you so desire
you may now loose your voice
along unseen wire
strung like angel hair
humming with electronic fire
and leave a message
on the voicemail you find there.

Painting 101

If I became a painter

I would paint only tornadoes.

The spirit
In the throws
Of a storm.

Wreaking havoc,
Tearing scars into whatever it touches.

But it has to be forgiven—
Its only an act of G-d.
Or a naive child of Mother Nature.

 

Yes.

A naive child of Mother Nature.

Thats it.

gh

            

Easy

It is one thing to be vulnerable
In front of those we love.
Easy for me, at any rate.

Being weak, on the other hand, 
And I’m talking full-on impotence here…
Not so easy.

There is no provision
In the contract of love
For weakness.

Nor should there be.

Unfaithfulness, lying, extortion, abuse of power
These things can be worked with.
But weakness?
That’s a deal breaker, your honour.

So I’m throwing myself on the mercy of the court.

gh