Sunday, March 6, 2011

Our Ophelia



Watching you unfold, slowly
a thing emerges, a hope;
one so dashed,
so shattered
upon the rocky shore
of my own heart-
jagged and edgy
and I know your heart
and when you look at me
i see you look through me
and you know my heart.
Once they beat as one
when you grew within
now you grow without
and dare not return
until it is too late
and my days are done;
yearning to sail home
to Ithaca.
Lost and alone
never knowing the way
with endless flailing
backtracks.
Eyes see nothing;
lost in a vision of seeking
Oh! the beautiful madness
such a righteous distraction..

Eyes see nothing, restless heart.
Endless red haze
To stop is to die.

Predictible Orbits


Anywhere but here, and since that day seemed so long ago, strange that now it wasn't. And when she felt so radiant, like the sun had blistered away all the layers of skin and left her bare and exposed, secretly hidden away in the dusty rafters of childhood knowledge; many days had passed wasted, unheeded. Life, like an art film replayed in fast forward motion, like the visions that come at life's end, we imagine. Flickering in the dark, sitting alone in the theater; sitting for review.
Thoughts mumble low now, no longer shouting down one another for limelight, accustomed to being disregarded, they politely wait their turns. Assimilated, subservient.
Pain becomes part of the limbic landscape inserting itself here and there like scrubby cacti succulent and bristly.
Houses of doors slam shut screen doors sifting air and memories and breathy whispers and silky tongues bring discontent to orgasm, and it comes unexpectedly in waves of greens.