Thursday, January 27, 2011

Time

...the wars --they'll be fought again
the holy dove -- she will be caught again...
leonard cohen

For Alex Smith


It's been a while....
life without you has been hard.
Merciless. Sober.
Even the bottles don't help.
This is not a yelp of a lost dog,
nor a cry into the tender night.
The fog,
the indifferent fog protects me from clarity:
from the precision of knowing
that the light
is only going to illuminate the lack,
the edges of loss -
eveyone's future -- is the cross.

... and everyone's burden is the truth
for which you no longer care with age
simply because it doesn't exist.
The least
one can do is bear the lie
and have the decency to pluck out the eye
at the first sign of retreat
from the illusion which enables us to treat
love as something real.
As somethiing worth shit.

This land and its sky doesn't shelter.
The moon sneaks throught the fog,
bares its face.
Then it withdraws in awe even farther.
I sit here speak with you, Father.

Friday, January 21, 2011

The End

and when the last bird
falls from the sky
and the last fish drowns
when the waves throw its body up --
stiff, open-mouthed...
look into its eye.
into its glassy bead
observe the indifferent stare
you -- are the bare
and lone remnant
left upon the planet.
Time closes in on you
Chisels your sanity into fear
and leaves you no luxury
of going insane --
like some king lear