hard timz

i don't know how
you waited thru those moods
but it was a long wait.
i thought we would be until
i died. i wished it but
i was foolish. you had so much
to learn. you have so much
to learn. and all i want to do
is hear your voice.


see your gorjus eyes.

so i wanted you gone. so i wanted
you here. so i wanted. it all comes
crashing down now. ive been needing
this water. i still have a few
roses to feed.


when you were here, exasperating.
when you weren't, i pine.
i will pine. i will howl. let our
whys meet on the moon. in the next life.
in some bastardization of ideal.


*


i just hugged our big
pillow. there is no more our.
you will have your life
i will have mine. to not see you
again will be a sad thing.
but i'm used to sadness
and death. it rolls thru me
like a roller coaster wave.
i need the ocean. i need
the lack of metaconsciousness.

on lava, most men my age
want to talk about anything but
the meaning of life. huh, i'm
still stuck on that.


it will never be answered. will it?
will it? will any question do?

i see meaning in life. and for the most part
that's enough. i love it when i'm in love.
it's when it begins to go to shit
that life hurts. some of my best poetry
comes from that. so, is poetry
the antithesis of living? for me, it's
an outlet, a thwarting of sensation
(to steal from the best).

this guy wanted to meet me. who cares.
he was 27/ talkin like he knows tantric.
i think it won't work unless you both
have grown into it. either seperately or
together.


the boy i loved sat on the edge of man
hood and pulled me childish. i miss him
now, but he had to go. playing house
is for girls. at least he knows he can
do it. wants to know why the lollipop
doesn't grow again, like in the video game.
i could explain, he would understand
but he wouldn't understand.

to be twenty in this life is the smallest
breathing place. you're an aveoli
that's going to grow silk wings. feel
the nubs. they prickle. push them in.
they hurt. listen . three days before

he was arrested, the runes told him
the tarot told him, the i ching
was positive. do not marry. chaos and fire!
he ignored it. threw his will against it.
snickered and rolled his eyes at it.
why does the pragmatic world disdain romantic
possiblity!? fools! appollonian mind
defies the will of the gods finds himself liverless
on the side of a canyon, buzzard's best friend.

i tried to get him to go
quietly, but he loves the sting of quest
fulfilled. he may
always love me, a lancelot. he will
probably find another, then another but one day
he will find her. it is the way of the scorpion.



*





i loved
the blonde blue christ
a sacrifice divine,
not mine. followed with anti christ-
sublime.




*



i have been on many sides
of love's rubrick cube.
there are perhaps more. the tarot
tells me to high thee to the kronery.

yes no more weaving spels for the young men.
they are not for me. men in fact
are not for me. but i don't want a woman lover.
i want a man who is a woman. not transgender.
let's be specific. i want a man who is as in touch
with his feminine side as dave, as in confident
in his masculine side as justin, as hard working as fred. um
skritch that last one. fuck the hard work.
what does it get you? another day deeper.







***

i imagined you sat there
with your curly locks hanging
over your right eye, your chest
covered with a coarse pelt
as if you'd just come from a hunt
but it was all you. something sexy
about that boy. yes you are.
believe it. but you know
it's too much for me.
sex is a limited commodity
in old age. desire gives way
to determination. to keep on living
or something...





***







i'm tired again. i'm trying to stay up
to go get my daughter. you used to do that
for me. one of your many wonderul qualities.
till you began to resent it. it's under
standable, service is tough job.
just ask lancelot.


these letters to you will continue.
i am taking a nap now.