Day Eight 11:24 AM

Free evenings

by twos and threes

dozens , over time

from the thaw to the freeze

 

Leaving the light on

turning it off

pale words and wonder

how bad is the cough?

 

how bad is this feeling?

how much is in store?

how many more hours

of finding the floor?

 

red green colorblind

from my earliest days

the catch in my throat 

is no longer malaise

 

there is no longer belief

in anything told

it’ll be easier seen

it’ll be easier sold

 

it’ll be one more trip

down south of the south

no matter what happens

there was never a doubt

 

that you would be holding her

as long as you could

chin to your chest

all the dried, sticky blood

 

dreaming of everything

                           other than this

Day Six 23:23 PM

Each time 

could very well be

the last time

This one could too

I would, I mean

I want you to know

the distance between the truth 

and    the news

we all go somewhere when our eyes are closed

wandering, wondering

hoping to know

the very thing that was right in front of your eyes

from inside the window

looking

                  outside

it may be

                  it is

the only thing left

 

the only thing different 

between you and me

is a circle, a fountain and that old oak tree

scarred by the letters 

attached to a past

that emphasized the similarity           best

Day Five 20:30 PM

The first person I saw 

that I knew 

was Mark the cop

and he didn’t move

a single muscle 

he stood in his spot

he thinks he was kind

we know now          he was not

 

there was no more 

sitting patiently 

                        for me

there was no more need 

 

that expensive liquor store 

at the foot of Allen Street

I was pretty sure that no one 

would see

by then I was stumbling

humbled, indeed

with a handful of coins

trying to make musts need

thinking about a funeral home

instead of a nursery

still making me wait

for what it might be

and every inquiry

was well out of bounds

an eyebrow was raised

but it later fell down

a brow was furrowed

by an acquaintance from work

but more time was spent 

on the state of my shirt

which was well stained with mud, blood and hurt

and every answer

was increasingly harsh

I just got what I could

and walked off through the park

 

it does slip away

and sometimes it should

nothing now 

will come to much good

 

ferrous ferocious

and the crevice alone

what comes in through the ears

ends up in the bones

Day Five 13:17 PM

Calm?

         How?

 

and, maybe more importantly, why?

 

Voices raised

the accusation remains

that it wouldn’t add up

that we shouldn’t complain

that all had been done

that all could have been

the sad little faces

of women and men

in blue and white

with little name tags

lifting up the shades

just like they were flags

asking earnest questions

while deftly deflecting

any attempt of direct

understanding

 

and then

I disappeared

Day Three 04:19 AM

The longest lead

to the longest day

Is there anyone now who can attest that it’s done

 

Can any one?

 

The culprit wasn’t seen

who is to say

it wasn’t me

 

I had the assurance of my alibi

which I questioned myself

with the sun in my eyes

 

the facts      are what they’re after

further waiting

but ultimately       disaster

 

it speeds up again, then until now

and i’m thinking much more of the why

than the how

 

I carved out the letters

in the closest oak tree

in an indian summer that was foreign to me

 

the scream is something

i can remember

the heartbeat blood at the top of the lungs

 

it spun a bit

then faltered

gave way to the truth

 

that neither of us will be seeing

   anything

through

Day Two 17:15 PM

By now, we know

          we all know         the

 

Could be

                           Would be

Should         be

 

We can tell the truth from the lies

you say it

but you’re not 

 

                           ‘fine’

 

your hands shake

your words shake

your clean clear voice

is nothing but a void

it’s weak

and muffled

lost in background noise

 

all the time 

                  now

 

Walking downtown

slow down

go down

by the water

think about the daughter 

that you almost had

that you’d prepared for

arrival should have been greeted with every happiness in store

 

blues and pinks in the tiny little room

on the left of the hall

that fronted the street

where you had chance to meet

every one of your heroes

every one of your friends

when things went bad

you held it all in

you closed that door

for years now it seems

four years now at least

the other she is gone

she headed back east

 

‘oh dear’, she said

‘i’d never’

‘i’m sorry’

and more

every feeling she spoke about 

is added to ‘sore’

is added to ‘sad’

is added to salt

you say ‘lock me away

it was always my fault’

 

my good name?

 

the is 

no 

such 

thing

Day One 07:16 AM

Memories 

 

The morning

                        brighter than advertised

 

letters to  words to weak     ends

                                                

            to                     sentences

            for       sentences

four          life               sentences   

no witnesses

 

            ‘no superstitions’  he says

 

                                    ‘there’s no such thing as ghosts’  he says

 

‘there     is       no        such                thing’   

 

he 

            says

 

So, look

                        wait       here

 

I’ll come back

                        I swear

 

to the window, the widow, the thought, to the known

 

you wanted to

                                    i wanted to

 

we           wanted to

Sky Blue Bells

Surely it was some kind of time travel

that always seemed to take longer than it should

that rarely came to any good

that offered the kind of hope 

pitted against itself

the understanding, the knowing 

that 

they didn’t want me

even as I wanted them 

or 

needed them

 

The Puda and his stuttering hipster

The sheer volume that pushed us all to the back before the brave could walk to the front again

Weird Laura , who knew how to make things

(except conversation)

She strung a bunch of numbers together and 

never said another word about it 

until the one night that the old town decided I was better than all right

And, even then, it was short lived

ill sighted

and I’m sure Bryan let them drive away without me

I was clinging to someone else’s idea of what I should be worth

That’s the part that really hurts

An embarrassment of t-shirts

T-tops and sweet tea

Georgian but blind

forgetting the best parts 

being unkind

 

Once, in 1998, the new ones nibbling around the weird ones in the old town came to my town

brought me up while they brought you down

You couldn’t make the first bit of sense of it, said

“Why would anyone listen to this stuff, 

let alone sing along?

In a Wonderful World There Would be no Wishing Wells

Look at the pictures and

turn the pages

there has never been a better time to worry

for wages

of sin

or otherwise

it’s short, the moment 

and hadn’t necessarily been forgotten

but is completely invented and

as difficult to remember as it is to forget

where you add the apostrophe

if it needs

            and

                                what it means

        is such

subjectivity

as the life

as the love 

and the nagging feeling of

how much of either

is enough

Our Last Walk Through the Old Town (in present tense)

You don’t know any better

 

My suggestion about the one and the three

being the place to lean

and the little step down

deep

that makes it feel like we know what we’re doing

even in the face of 

overwhelming evidence    to the contrary

 

Veronica is as close as we get 

to that

and her stance 

is arguable

at best

 

But, here we are

on a starry night

with enough chills, scarves and whiskey 

to keep us walking along, moving

and not worrying about crossing the street

where Jarral might be

where the lows stay low

not forever but for real

 

We know 

that once we stop

one of us will have to speak

I’m just worried that it’ll be 

me

I’m worried it’ll have to be

and am utterly relieved when

it’s you

 

The whys wheres and whoms are spit out in one run-on sentence

like you couldn’t keep them inside your crooked smile mouth           

for       one      more   second

 

and I won’t say that any of those

were a surprise

They were not but

 

Still, I puff out my chest

a protector

like I’d done months before when it passed time

for Paul to stop

for Paul

to leave

 

I don’t know that I was any more ready for consequences then

than I am now           but

I’m ready to try, same as I was

at least I think that’s what this is

this feeling

this thought

 

Tuning back in I think I hear something about a purple cat

Were we talking about brown bear? 

Or just help?

 

Yes, of course I will

yes, it’s no problem

yes, of course, Thursday afternoon

 

Yes

 

Uh, no, I won’t tell anyone

 

Why would I?

 

Who are they?

*An editorial suggestion brought about this rework of the last post. "Drag it into the light" they said. 

So, I did.