may - mid-june: til there was you (unknown)
come in, there's a knock on the door
and love walks through
and lights the fire
and smiles the smile
as though love were going to stay awhile
the magic breathes and weaves
its spell, but then
love runs out of lies to tell
for love is restless
love's a flirt
love has places to go
and people to hurt
so here is a shovel to smother the flame
tomorrow you'll hardly remember my name
i'll try to forget you, my dearest one
like a visitor tries to forget the sun
for life hold no purpose
love has no charm
since i beheld you in another's arms
mid-june - mid-july: Eighteen (Meredi Freeman)
i was eighteen they began to look i began to know their look eighteen and delicious morello cherry lip balm pink and tasty lips new and young all over be all over me make much of me i am flesh pink young pleasure i fascinate i provocate he said beautiful i like to dream of you brushing your hair i was fluttered i was flattered let me be more enthralling i said a mock pearl necklace around my throat should do it i will smoke with a faraway look i disturbed their desire i was disturbing he said that skirt is much too short traffic jam i don't want other men looking don't wear that skirt again but i like this skirt it's hot anyhow the breeze brushes my thighs cotton breathes it is light and free me where did you go who did you talk to you smiled at him i saw your smile don't smile in short skirts like that you are the music to my verse i am the words you just hum honey hum for me you want me let me lie on your lap let me lie on you let me lie to you why don't we do it here i found you in my heart sweet heart sweet nothing it's not sex it's making love you're so clean i don't want you using those words let me fuck you here's my number i know the right buttons to press i like your legs you could tone up in other ways i'll show you how gorgeous girl i could do with a back-rub no nothing like that just my shoulders you're good at this that feels so good it's a shame to open the whole bottle if you're not having any you know your eyes are such an amazing colour i've never said this to anyone this is so different you're so special i never felt this way about anyone here's a box of rose chocolates it's a cubic zirconia i wanted to buy you more you mean so much this is a big step need to think things apart it won't be for long sheree she's my sister no an old friend all right an old flame means nothing now we just met for lunch old time's sake she still likes oysters i said you never bought me oysters i've only tasted mussels he hand fed me grey mucous globs smiling saying the food of lovers my pet savour each one let it slide down your throat i swallowed each one and each one was oily and soapy and slimy i gagged i gorged myself i gobbled i glutted myself i made him gleam i made him groan then he looked at me he said why don't you grow your hair long sheree has gorgeous long hair you really should look after your figure curb your appetite whett mine some more you're letting yourself go too much no one will want you if you let yourself go.
mid-july - mid-october: insomnia (isaac paul hildebrant)
at 1 AM
dreams of love
swim in ether
thru my head
a cup of coffee
adorns my hand
heating from inside
and out
pouring in
cream sugar Baileys while
thinking of past lives
and past wives
and dreams i've yet to realize
muscles stretch and flex i rise
my breath visible in chilled air
i return to her
in the room
we've both slept in
we made love
in a field of wildflowers
and it hurts me
'cuz i'm not the one
who's truly passionate
i wrote a poem
an epilogue to love
talking of past lives
and past wives
and dreams i've tried to realize
a picture of perfection within her eyes
i wrote her name upon the skies
din of silence
bullet to the heart
she spoke in riddles
and talked of love
and faith in gd.
i shrugged
she walked away
my mind can't contain
my thoughts
cuz they are
fucking up past lives
and past wives
and dreams i do not realize
i spoke a sonnet to her love
and in the night she cries
mid-october to march: daisies for joshua (and carmen, who knows nothing is ever really commonplace) (suzanne grissel perez melara)
I will go out into the world today
and pretend that everything?s an element.
I will see only simplicities,
take love, for instance,
And drag out a monologue in my head,
In which the daisies and a girl in any common place
(a window perhaps, because they are commonplace,
and anything, really,
is a window
the air itself, or perhaps a blade of grass
sweltering in the heat of many others)
will argue the touch and tone of any ordinary man,
say,
why ever he leans towards her,
if he leans toward her at all.
A daisy in itself can be simple to an eye,
And any vein or human heart can identify
With the flow and pulse of blood,
and that ordinary open-close of windows,
Small, but gaping and shutting continuously
like breath or any eye.
Daisies breathe;
they do it backwards,
but all in all, dear,
They keep going just like any one of us.
But going back to the girl why, she?s a grand
journalist,
Her fingertips the reporters of miracles that break,
shatter between other windows, and so forth?
The earth is one huge daisy.
Alchemy?s a fraud.
These eyes of mine that shame to witness windows every day,
banging on the hinges,
Unbreakable,
have tried that before.
Stripped naked, they view in watercolor,
a lack of monochrome,
And the world one blurry mess.
Oh Lord, that I should sit here
and think simplicities
and go out into the green
And write a lifeless metaphor
Simply because
No one
Has yet
Ever
Loved me so
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