the window shut.
the clock had stopped at 9 a.m.
the door left open.

now, you've come to haunt me.

I hear you, an old song,
and when I turn around to see
who was behind me
your eyes flicker like a distant star.

shining gray, brittle and blue eyes
as blue as the cobalt night,
and your smile sets the night
on fire.

I had held you in my arms for too long,
too long ago.
you, a denim ribbon tied into a bow.
me, the dreamer of what might be.

the elusive love,
I had put a rose on that certain box,
the day you walked out. so

every ending is a beginning
and when I m down by the river,
when on the green grass
the dew gleams,
I ll say I love you,

but for now,

you look great.
I'm glad to see you are happy.

(and so I'll see you in distant stars.
I'll hear in an old song)

and so,
I'll just say goodbye.

Clutching at thin straws of sanity
Swirling in a sea of madness
I dog paddle with all my might
Towards a shore that seems too far
To offer any hope of safe arrival
         ljm

some days I can't help wondering what would
Anna Karenina say to madame Bovary
let's say they exchange ruminations, decide the future of clouds,
wonder if memory works like the fossils trapped in sand beds
ask one another what lipstick colour is trendy this year in Paris, Milan or Madrid
argue over their genesis, who is the winner
mind heart bone tissue trapped together
no, not sure about their order in a female lineage
do they descend from the Great Mother or
were they born from the head of Zeus
talk about anything but love: moonless nights, Kafka,
the purpose of life, the fragility of leaves, Victorian women
Madame dreams of Freud, Anna knows Darwin
contrary to their inbuilt frame of reference they wait for a fresh dawn,
touch their bodies with female eagerness.
behind their eyes love's net is heavy with meaning

Your curls have my fingers
So tight they won't let go

I could live here, hands on your head,
myself, your cargo.

Take me far away from here,
Around this great blueberry.

I'll ride high on your shoulders,
Or walk when you get wary.

At night, sleep, face up to the moon,
Your scalp set in my palms.

I'll tell you things about the stars,
my gentlemen in arms.

I'm getting used to being alone again,
To noiseless evenings, torturing by coolness,
To sickening evenings with their twinkle stars,
Which harshly tear my soul by stuffy stillness.

I'm getting used to being alone again,
Alone with Chopin in all the evenings long.
I fall upon my pillow and shut off,
And in the morning my alarm's 'ding-****'

Well now, hello, my dear, and come in.
Where've you got lost, my sweet and precious friend?
We'll wade through whole life with you, my loneliness,
From this time forth up even to the end.