Birdhouses

Three white birdhouses
sitting in a row on a fence
like tiny benevolences in the sun.
One is a light house
with a tiny twinkling light
in the tower
It's a small revolving mirror
powered by the breeze
and when the sun hits it just right
it seems bright enough to light
the world.
Two is a schoolhouse
with tiny bird brains to mold
I like to imagine
a wise old owl with a big full belly
an even fuller brain
with knowledge and experience
to impart to all the fledglings.
And if you pass by it closely
you can almost hear the
learning.
Three is a church house
with a tiny, clumsy steeple
and bird families and folk to uphold
and uplift
But this the birdies like least of all
Because they are already in Heaven
when they fly.

Cellophane

What if we saw everything through
a layer of cellophane
that was the same color as our eyes?

I would see you
in shades of sepia
and even new pictures of us would feel
nostalgic
like we have always belonged together.

You would see me
in waves of blue
that never think of receding.

Places

People are the places we wanted to go
If I am and remain this stubborn
We will never speak again
Remember that time when you
hung up on me and I called you
back so you could
do it again?
I couldn't get enough of you and your
abuse.
I wish I could have thought of a better
use of my time back then.
Get it off your chest, regress
Quit telling me lies that make me miss
myself and who I was before I let you
win.
If I call you now would you have
anything to say to me that I
haven't heard before?
I could tell you lots of things that
you don't know about me now, but why
should I? You won't remember
or maybe you'll try to forget that
you're not a mistake I want to
make anymore.
I'm sorry there's nothing to save
When there's nothing left to burn you
have to set yourself on fire
The opposite of that is this:
When there is nothing left to save you have to
save yourself
When there is nothing left to fear you have to
fear yourself
When there is nothing left to lose you have to
lose yourself
When there is nothing left to love you have to
love yourself.
Maybe "opposite" is the wrong word. Maybe these
are all ways of setting yourself on fire.
I hope you do because you've got spark
And you can't tell me that I've extinguished it.
I see it still and only you (I) can extinguish
your own (my own) fire.
Let it roar, invert it, toss it, turn it, play with
fire - let it burn you, consume you, turn you into
ashes and dust.
The world is made of ashes and dust that have
fallen into compromising piles, comprising places
rather than people where we wanted to go.
I'm covered in your soot and you're pristine
Clean and white and lazy.
You never handled my soot
Afraid to get your hands dirty?
Come, come now, we know each other
much to well to be flirty
Will I make it to thirty?
Or will I divide and replicate
Share myself with another other
One with fire in his eyes
Which are the windows to the soul
and heart.
When there is nothing left to burn you (I) have
to set your (my) heart and soul on fire
Become the place he wants to go
Make more places together
I never knew this could happen.
Repression begets repression
Depression begets depression
which is freedom, but with restraints
Restraint begets restraint?
Is that what went wrong?
I don't think so because my restraint
begot you freedom.
But maybe because
your restraint begot mine.
Let's never be restrained
Is it too much?
No, never enough
I think I need help because I have
started to get depressed without you.
I have started to doubt that love
is equal - that I love you as much as you love
me and vice versa. Do you love me as much as I love you?
Sometimes.
I watch you sleep sometimes and it
feels like the first time.
Does selfishness beget selfishness?
If I am selfish and decide that I want
to spend my time with you and only
you forever and ever, then will the same
selfishness awaken in you?
If it did, would I continue to want
you as much as I did before?
Do I lust for unattainable things?
I don't dream of wedding bands or rings
but I sometimes think that I'd love
to be bound
by love
Not symbols of love, because a symbol isn't the
real thing. It stands for something else.
That's what it was! I fell in love
with your love symbolism, which
was very convincing.

Mathematics is full of theorems, half-truths and
proofs
like you
In theory you love me as much as I love
you. When a theory is more or less true, it becomes
a proof.
You once wrote me a proof to confirm
your love and it said:
"I must always put U before ME because
I only have to go through the alphabet once
to get U, but I must go around twice to
get ME."
Those lines of the proof were symbols. They spoke
of love unseen before or since and I don't
want to wait anymore.
Don't wait around for me forever because
I'm not coming back.
Your bags were always packed so why
don't you leave?
It makes me sad to know that in the
beginning, when we were supposed to be
in love - I certainly thought I was -
that you couldn't wait to leave town
or for me to leave town.
How do I know this? Because I look forward
to your absences.
I subtract you from my life
I am calculating and strong
I am not zero now that you are gone or
leaving.
Best begets best
We are at our best without each other
Am I at my best alone or will
another other make me better?
Our dreams diverge
If I don't want two of everything - dogs, kids, cars
am I un-American?
Do dreams exist outside the lines of the mainland
on the map?
But I do dream in twos
There are two of me
And two of you
And we are each a little bit duplicitous.
But I love you both, even your duplicitous bits
All I want to know is, are you being duplicitous
with me? If so,
which me are you being duplicitous
with?
I am awake for the first time. 5:57:30.
No, I was lying before. Now I am genuinely
awake for the first time today. 5:58:10.
I am awake as long as I am looking at
you, but if I blink I forget
No, I was lying before. I am dreaming when I
am looking at you - I don't want to wake up -
and if I blink I'll wake up. Perhaps for the
first time in days.
You're the places I want to go
in my dreams and in reality.

Collaboration

 I was thinking about Lennie in Of Mice and Men the other day and how much he likes to hear about the dream. He says,

"But not us, George. Tell how it is with us."

But I don't picture Lennie in my mind's eye. 

I picture myself, my face inches from yours, and my eyes are asking yours, 

"Tell me again how we met 

how much you love me already 

about the collaborations that are 

possible between us. 

Tell me how much you thought 

about me before 

Before we ever met."

Because I've been thinking about you

wanting to meet you all my life

If you can even call what I 

had before you life.

Because I'm more alive now than

I've been in years.

And for years to come, you'll

have me to take care of you

and I'll have you to take care of me.

Lennie may not be a smart man,

but he knows what love is.

-----

But George knows what love is too

and he knows that its better to have

loved and lost than to never have

loved at all.

I lost the love I had for you

Can't find it anywhere

But then again

I'm not really looking anymore

Any more? No, I don't have any more 

to give you. 

I had apples, but I gave them

to you years ago because you said

you needed them to...I can't remember now

I don't think you ever said why.

Then you came back and you needed

more, so I gave you my leaves

My green, my youth

I gave generously and you happily 

took.

Later still you returned after you'd already 

left me twice.

This time you took my trunk,

my middle, which made you think 

that you had my heart too.

But my heart was below ground

in the roots

-----

I wanna make roots with you

"the code is mixed and flesh

joins to bone, like granting a wish."

You wrote that and I fell in love

with your words

They spring from your heart

and speak to mine

and maybe someday we'll watch

our collaborations grow.

And of all the things we give them

We'll be proudest of giving them 

hearts like ours.

I have to laugh because I find

myself speaking in "wes" and "ours" 

and it's effortless.

I feel so light and free

But is it because I've lost so much

already?

-----

It's been two months already and I feel you

picking at my stump.

I wait for rain, pray for it

because it washes filth away.

You made me feel dirty

Your seed stings which makes me 

think its poison.

You have no roots or I've never

seen your heart

It never spoke to mine

the signals crossed and met with

static, bounced back and I 

thought my love was yours

and I was happy for a time

loving myself, thinking it was you

loving me.