Bonne nuit mon amour

For S.

Dors bien ma belle chérie,
    je t’aime beaucoup.

Sans toi, je ne serais rien…

it feels as if all I can give
to be worthy of your love is
        & sometimes
words are just not enough:

    they cannot convey,
        can’t create,
the tangible texture
    of what it is
that you mean to me.

“I love you”
        “Je t’aime”:

Neither one
    is sufficient,

because what exists between us
    is far beyond the influence
of words.

It’s something I cannot express;
I don’t fully understand, &
        so all I can give you
are these paltry words,
  to demonstrate my belief
that I love you
    & that you love me:

ma foi que je t’aime,
& tu m’aimes

Dors bien ma belle chérie

The thoughts that follow…

Crossing the unfeeling surface of this
                        ugly city,
lost in broken reveries &
                        the sophistry
of melancholy without origin,

thought begins
to blend into visceral abstraction:

the nausea of a simple creature
wanting only to know why it knows it
                        must suffer.

Wouldn’t it be better
not to think at all,
    to be
innocent & free

from the thoughts that follow
    the hollow feeling
        that everything

is meaningless?

                        …but meaning is a concept,

one of thought’s
        many children,
so without thought
            there would be no concept
                of meaning to be lost…

through a clumsy succession of steps I
                        try to accept
that the words bring this suffering & yet
are the only source of my salvation:

no affirmation without negation;

                        nothing is something,
            & something
                is nothing
without opposition…

this is what brings me back to a fleeting
        my one broken prize;
a thought
        that isn’t mine:

the tree is really rooted in the sky*;
    it is the light
falling continually from above
that provides
        the energy
    to defy gravity,

by finding it’s way upwards while
sending roots
    deep into
        the earth.

* Human Personality – Simone Weil


All these years;
the days spent waiting,
        hours just staring

at the walls.

All these years
of blunted & fading,
        wasted & wasting


I push my hands against the sides
of my skull & somehow
        somewhere between them

words form
& disappear…

Rivers of Gold

For S.

Fading embers still remember the fire,
        & I remember
            soft summer air
& the thought of wildflowers,

when your serene,
        iridescent green eyes
            first smiled at me:

when first I found serenity
        in those rivers of gold,
            cascading down your shoulders…

Never let me forget…

For S

Never let me forget
    how much
        I wanted to forget
the way you looked when I left you in bed
    this morning,
to face the dawn & the dawning
knowledge that the futile elegance of
            transcendent vision
allowing us to see
the meaningless mystery
    of nothing,
means nothing to me
        compared to you.

As every breath in my lungs
pulled like wet leaves through mud,
    you looked
        so beautifully
           at peace:

a rare orchid on the far shore of sleep…

In that moment
        I decided
to quit smoking; that moment,
I had to tear myself away from you
only to throw myself into
the world where bullshit is King,
    felt like a betrayal
        because I forced myself
to forget:

it was the only way
I could make myself leave
    the bed;
leave the island of peace
    of our bodies
        pressed together,
just to travel
        across the filthy sea
            of the city
that doesn’t give a fuck about you,
    or me
        – or anybody at all –
to work for the wealth of others,
    so that we can sleep beneath
        a roof & between walls;
            so that we
can eat without the need
to raid bins to survive,
    & I
        can return to you

So never let me forget
that the society we live in is disgusting
    & you
are the only reason
    I remain within it.

Never let me forget.