rainwater sadness

slides down your spine

cracking your bones and

driving you to madness

caressing every curve

of the fine carbon structures

in the way that you wish she could

qui est elle?

a figment of your imagination

stretch marked, curly haired

stitched together with the thread of

simple desire, purple and violet

gold on her teeth

you dream of love that isn’t violent

I don't know

If you're

Distant

Because you

Don't love me,

Or if it's

Because you

Think I don't

Love you.

we’ll be there

together

or

on the way

to each other

to meet in the middle

or at the end

of the beginning

to reach up

and

stroke the

long silk necks

of the

beautiful

horses.

I woke up this

morning and I was

no longer sure. Please hear

my confession.

Hold on,

it's

night for

me and we get confused

in my profession.

I'm a watchman

and a listener too.

Believe me, that thing

of which I dreamed in time

of day was something new. But

whether angel or devil it's slipped away.

It made me wonder though, if what I do

has meaning or does it just lead to

lots of screaming? Now I feel itchy

with unspoken fears of the type

that creep in upon the guilty.

Of them there are

some in every

place as I should

know, for I visit

them at home.

My work's all

about sneaking

under beds

in the main

or scritching

fingers on

window panes.

Sometimes I

rattle rusty

chains.

Last night/

stroke day

I think I may

(and this is

where it gets

unclear) I may

have reached a place of grace where no demons lurk.

I had a dream in time of day as politicians and preachers say.

But truth to tell I went to sleep a jerk and waked a jerk as well

So much for dreams, now back to work at peddling screams.