Am I curious again?
Let me stay in the stage of discovering
Don’t let it end
Happiest I am dancing through the maze
Don’t let it end
I’m content being lost as long as I’m left here
Don’t let it end
In Samsara’s pleasure garden, no one wishes for
the end of the line
I’m satisfied to discover new suffering
Don’t let it end
Today, the world is tearing open
Everyone I know is crying
women, men
this is what our anger becomes
when our fire runs out and
we realize what we’ve done
This is how we bare our souls
with honest feeling
in safety
why should we alone endure our gief?
In the fray, the pages rend –
this time not my hand to blame –
yet the rip reveals remembrance
that recollection cannot heal
Bearing loss, the heartache felt
heavy as a pack
carried uphill over many days
heavier now,
as if weight was added still
Sorrow, the melancholy blues
I haven’t felt you in a while
and here you are anew
We may wallow in anguish, woe —
briefly — as we fall into
the cracks
as night chases the sun away
we can wish for tomorrow’s gift:
a day that destroys our dismay
permanently.
Dearest Othello,
How do I write this now? How now, my Lord, after all that’s become of us?
How do I tell you what’s become of me?
I’ve been sun-kissed and wave-licked
I’ve been rolling in the dirt
I’ve slapped a horse’s ass, cherry picked
and I’ve spit creek water to the earth
I’ve seen snakes in grass
and long thin worms, and sometimes chubby slugs
the forest yields such photographs
beetles, spiders, bugs
Moths and butterflies have pressed me
with silken, pollened wings
while no bee nor wasp has ever stung me
as the dog-day cicada sings
A cricket symphony has often put me ‘lone to sleep
under starry skies, dry eyes wake damp with dew
out here I do not care to weep –
a tear outside was never shed, except those I shed with you
If I never loved another, Desdemona be my name
I have never touched another, yet an Othello I have made
I have never laid another, but you laid me with the blame.
Oh, poor Othello! Confused with talk
fed into ear by Iago’s mouth, untamed and tainted
with mirthful, selfish motivation, to destroy love! Revenge!
Was my mistake the one she missed?
The one where I fought back?
For though I’m fair, when I get pissed
boundaries up and eyes go black
Not so passive, lacking grace
I begged and pleaded and tempted fate
with tearful eyes and ruddy face
now there’s nothing to investigate
I’ve not strayed, and still I wait
as Desdemona would have done
had Othello spared her life and run
her story, I do speculate, and mine
Would be as one.
So though leaves have stroked my arms
And brooks have soaked my pants,
No other man has ever stirred me
Woodsy tickles come from spiders, ants
Still, the forest gets me going,
More stagged than sumac sprigs
How then I touch myself knowing
I’ve never caved to pleasure twigs
Right now, I cannot know your mind
How now, my Lord, I’m feeling blind!
So, in ignorance I must declare:
I will never sacrifice my virtue
To die upon a kiss
Know, still, I’m saved for you.
Love, Desdemona
It seems silly to confess such a vision
now, after so much time has passed
But such an image must be released
Like milk gone sour in the fridge,
flushed chunky down the john
How I would have followed you endlessly
how I’m built to follow, as a soldier
chivalrous in bruised armor, undefeated
Though appearing a king, I act a knight —
two forward and one over, L for loser
let’s invent our own games instead
How in my dreams, I submit my strength
in trusted servitude, loyal to my last breath
I am the lion that lays with the lamb
I follow you through fields, under stars, three hours
from home, flashlight in hand, owl calls on a speaker
hung from the lower branches of the pine
The air, cold and damp, presses us together
in scientific embrace and present ecstasy
end of winter love, blooming with spring
I follow you into the tent each night,
our bodies pressing squeaky air out of the mattress,
our throats downing iced coconut water, before each other
Our fingers feed furred friends before midnight,
Touch each other until dawn, pop and squeeze
tickle, tease, and cook together each morn
I follow you across the province,
each step a wish for you to accomplish your dreams
in my fantasy you have aspirations, and you name each one
Before bed each night, you whisper fairy tales to my closed eyes
All the places we’ll live and all the beings we’ll help
the examples we’ll set – no one will kill a spider again!
I follow you to a reinvented world, our happiness laid
bare and bearing only arms of peace, love
the kindness of your hand on my face,
the warmth of your embrace
I follow you from lake to lake –
I pack dinner for us to take and barbeque
watching the sunset over rough waves
washed smooth in the dusk
Though the water’s cold, and I know not its depths
my hand in yours, I dive, snorkeling for the first time,
submerged skin sensations new to my airy nature
I follow you down sandy coastlines,
metal detecting or searching for pretty stones
collecting materials, like magpies, for our nest
I follow you through ups and downs, hardships and
some celebrations do offer return on investment
I like you just the way you are, in spite of anxiety
I follow you until it’s dark, and you begin to fade away
and when this imagination ends, I know you do not stay
Because it was my vision, not yours
Was I truly a monster?
Having to beg for love crumbs
is ugly
I am not a villain anymore
I don’t steal scraps
And I don’t blame you
For reanimating my heart
When I lay as a corpse on the table
My virgin lips begging for it
Stitched to a rotting head
Jolted to life by your lightning touch
Addicted, attached to your light
Poisoned, angry when left in the dark
The literature you wrote warned others
Stay away from the beast
Science went wrong with this one
So alone I wait
for my doctor to return
with a cure
Not knowing
he got lost along the way
Following lamp light into the marsh
and voices into the mist:
Don’t go home. Play with us.
Is your happiness a monster?
Did you find your truth?
Different times of day yield
different colours,
Different satisfactions of experience,
clocked shadows, dancing
patches of sun
Yet your embrace
erased such time
coloured everything bright
And our discoveries seemed to
pass us by in a now faded flash
Though the memories
cling like stickseed
Only a dull heat lingers in my womb
creator of gross images,
art and stories, sometimes still of us
All while my subtle winds
carry mournful breaths, poisoned
with attachment
All while my very subtle mind
offers peaceful release, renunciation
accepted, finally
I let you go
The dog boy grew up with cats
they told him he was a cat
spoke to him like a cat
groomed him as a cat
and even though he still became
Dog Man
this pack creature
is unceasingly drawn to felines
their foreplay familiar
dogs something foreign and rarely
brought round for fun
Dog Man is sensitive and he longs
for a good belly rub
but kitties have dirty claws
and would rather receive
their own scratch behind the ears
the pissing in a box thing?
not so clean – an illusion
but one puss in the box
is worth two dogs in the woods
so is spoken
so Dog Man clings
like a kitten to the curtains
Dog Man clings
and he won’t run with wolves
he barks with fear
and he can’t let go
Who will love me?
When I am apart from this world
When I stand alone, refusing to be
wrecked by a cellphone superglued to my senses,
application addiction gone awry
When I refuse to partake in modern convention
preferring soft and spiky summer grass between my toes,
humidity sucking sweat to the surface of my skin,
lying upon rocks under thick air,
thick branches bearing bright green canopies,
thousands of thirsty leaves, some yellow and release
reminders that this moment is temporary,
and the Fall will come
Who will love me then?
When I bake appled pies and over-romanticize
the long shadows of autumned evening walks
my season of spiders, ripping through webs
strung out over trails,
boasting my bravery – no more fear of fine-legged friends
just as precious a life, so I give love
I give compassion, knowing these virtues are
given not taken, the cause of the effect,
happiness
Why, then, do I ask for love?
Believing the grasping, the craving
its fulfilment will make me whole, and I
will never want again –
a lie
like salt water quenching thirst
impossible
and possibility
still believed
Who will love me when I am
under a spell of such insanity?
And who will guide me out of this suffering?
Permanently?
She gets dressed up
Somewhere nice to go
Maybe she’ll meet someone
And be happy for a moment or so
Still, she remembers
Death looms ever close
She’ll lose this appearance forever
And reckon what karma throws
The Halfwit Writer