the Sun is going down.

the Sun is going down
in a house similiar to a Friend's
conversing with a memory
I go out to the Porch
I ask a question the memory a question
Unsatisfied with the response
It’s not here and cannot answer…
atmosphere is strange, clear, lucid… Blue
Something special in the light
Catastrophic.
Beautiful.

The Sun is going down.
Look up.
An explosion.
A rocket.
And the big apple.
An exploding ship.
And the orange sun Sister.
Blue. Twilight. Eclipse.
Don’t look up.

I get off with the memory
It’s answers do not satisfy me
But it’s voice is soft,
Enchanting
Friend you are upset.
Get honest with me.

You prey on people.
Like a hungry dog
You ask your questions
Bombard them with your questions
No time to respond.
Bombard them with intimacy
You have to give them time.
Those programs have made your tongue loose.
You ask your questions
Like a hungry dog
You ask
With no restraint
You prey.

But you must give it time.

Oh! I do?
Oh
It’s like with men
When they get sexual too fast.
You must give it time.

The Sun is down
It’s dark and late.
It’s raining outside.
We can’t talk outside.
Let’s go inside.
By the ice cream
On the couch
Where we can talk
Near the counter
A ticking.

We must give it time.

Duct Tape

On witnessing apparent love:

That one might express this love in anger and frustration.
That the love may be so overwhelming that one might know no other way than to criticize.


That the simple act of silence may convey a hidden truth that one might give a life for another.


While another, in their hurt for the confusion of this criticism and the misunderstanding of a misery of another may also convey a hidden truth of love.


And all this love expressed in the pushing away of another...
[PUSHING TOWARDS ME, A PLACE UNKNOWN]


And how the tenderness of the unconditional truth
may be so sharp as to cut you open...
[WITH WILD EYES OPEN, A PLACE UNKNOWN]

And the fear of its depths may keep you closed...
[THE THINGS THAT KEEP ME, DEPTHS UKNOWN]

And the simple tenderness hidden in one small action...

That one's bag may have split before their travels...
That they may be in danger of losing everything contained in this bag...
Or to put it another way, they may be freed of this weight they carry...


And the parent,
so tenderly,
with love,
without question
Passes the duct tape...


To cover the hole inside.
To cover the hole outside.
To make ones bag stronger...
That they may be better able
To carry what weighs them.


And a man working tirelessly on flight...
Holds the picture of his child by his work.
And the child may never know this and think only of how he was forgotten.


And the woman...
In a seat
In between
[A PLACE UNKNOWN]

Dreaming of the one she has
To be closer
Dreaming of the one she wants
To be closer
[CLOSER TO ME, A PLACE UNKNOWN]

Wishing for the duct tape
That covers the hole inside
That covers the hole outside

To be so tenderly,
With love,
Without question,
Peeled away...
[A WAY TO SEE, A PLACE UNKNOWN]

The Beauty of Broken Dishes

There is talk about the beauty of broken dishes...
That is what you do when you can't eat anymore...

When I am full...
My plate is empty...

There is talk about the beauty of broken dishes...
holding onto this hot cup full...

It just aches to be poured out...
Onto a bare foot

That way one might walk a bit differently...

And the one above
laughs and observes

and the one inside
laughs and observes

and the one outside
immediately runs toward broken dishes...
holding tightly onto a hot cup full...
That is what you do when aching to be poured out...