dreams of all kinds

fade without fail

but poems of you stay

etched in the walls

of my mind’s halls




he keeps cooking dinners

he won’t eat

as if they could make her

come back and stay home




her life had flat-lined

with startling blips

recalling her potentials




why do i so vividly recall the luck

of inconsequential moments

when we turned beside

that eighteen wheel truck




you think

the indians we killed

did not have little girls

waiting for daddy to come home




most people i knew

did not die from old age

they simply got tired

of senseless living




you did not mind

to follow the band

our castle was marked

by a two person tent

one month that touring summer


i did not find

you were for rent

including your heart

and your morals were bent

till i caught you with our drummer


can’t say i don’t miss you

not only as muse

the times when i kissed you

were worth the abuse

but i lost my best friends

to living the blues




night sweat fueled fires

in marish locked spires

from which they try rise

in the mornings

evil won’t let them peacefully rest




faded photographs of us

that cannot be retaken




not enough booze in the cabinet

to make her go on and finally forget

she’ll carry these wounds

of lost love around bleeding

smearing her life till she’s dead




we’re only as good

as the last thing we stated

no one remembers beyond




back road mountain pass we passed

embalmed in clouds

primordially muffled

our universe focused

trajectories suspended

you did not want to stay




how do you love a heart

bruised to its core

that mistrusts its own hurtful beating




it’s late at night

and she won’t let him

change history

even going forward




she called boys hey

until deciding

if it made sense

remembering their name




he wants to return

to when he was feeling

emotions recounted now

for the first time




you have me return to a lost october

the city was stage to our play

then you wrapped your angel’s wings

in a pullover

and left me bereft of more lines to say




when people die

we recite some phrases

and wonder if their voice

should have been recorded




holiday moon

hollow promises

gone too soon




sunlight through

the back of her ear

made me remember

how she was dear

color of rosy piglet




comet coursing

to never return

she took a shine at me

on her way to burn




scraping on bones

their ancestors left

unable to forget them




she could not evoke

the ardors stirred then

except for faintly

the hearsay of them




when i was small

i thought spring blooms

were for my birthday

and thanked them all




he recalled youth’s mornings

of fresh baked bread

enjoying it buttered

fore health warnings’ dread




mostly she told me

she was just tired

warding off worries

without reward




i recall a city

you’ve never been to

but i roamed its streets

forlorn looking for you




as you stepped out of bed this morn

and walked in horizontal light

you carried the glow of a saintly form

an image exposing still in my mind




it was a time

when words meant more

when people gave theirs

or cursed another’s fortune

when one could not say

i love you and not mean it




knowing you were

trusting you are

wishing you’ll always be there




impressions of life kept creeping back

as waiting halls in temporary stations

or trains with uncertain destinations




she hated him deadly

with silent passion

for stirring up memories

of her frustrations

he knew but suspected

love still had a chance




how quietly you come and go

dead figment

of my heart’s encrusted routine




crestfallen to me

was the tritest cliché

till you made me suffer its meaning




i often think back to autumn days

when our love’s spring was found

nature’s alive now

in unnerving praise

loud consolations abound




i know that i should write her now

and yet forgot what to say about how

it got so complicated




after a while his memory merged

with lies he reread in mail

details slowly replaced by myth

shelved love preserves going stale




she took him on a rousing flight

through fragrant soft-petaled trees

dropping him suddenly yet in spite

he’s reminiscing the breeze




she remembered

once being unguarded

toward feelings that then

crashed like breakers on her




inconsolable or demure

running from shadows

or hiding in them

light is the only cure




chivalry loyalty trust and grace

have become superseded ways

under the rigors of profit

leaving us poorer of it




she jeers at me

i’ve seen you before

as if i had ruined her vision




tries not thinking

of life with him

she can’t help feeling

still happening

in parallel dimensions




you spurned me before

and i understand

i don’t fit the life you’re leading

still i’ll ask your hand

every then once more

cause you’re still the door

on which my heart keeps beating




do you miss life as a real person

cleansed by harmonious nature




she knows she shouldn’t

but always revisits

the remnants of love’s disasters



Drawing in black ink of an open daisy flower facing the viewer. The daisy is the symbol of the Philosophy of Happiness book.



Blue and black title plus stylized, 8-pronged white star with a blue rhombus in each tip and separate rhombi on grey background.