If i
and the bubbly balloon clouds
cry

our eyes
would surely burst,

and the melting soil
will turn to mud

like love in its final verse.

—

Since kissed fairwell
more than twenty nights,
albeit on the cheek
feels like my life.

With the morning comes a longing
for the tiniest hello,
your book’s getting dusty–
left on the piano.

My eyes fix on your photo
soaked with warm morning light,
Our love as deep as roses
lets fall a petal each night.

—-

Sometimes, like this time
I want dive into my bathtub

of unuttered words, whirl-pooling

down the drain.

It’s times like this moment
I could grab them
and make a splendid splash

where, soaking wet I’d scream.

But instead, I watch them

wasting away,
like the person in the bathroom mirror.

—–

四川大地震

Singing from the playground

fills an empty Beichuan sky,

The hardened troops

cheer like schoolboys

This one is alive!

-

The men in white helmets

work without delay,

to reach a silenced cry

they heard on Saturday.

-

“It’s coming from the birds”

says a man wiping dirt from his eyes,

It happened during school time,

“It’s only the birds!” he cries.

—————————-

Flowing coffee-colored curls
Once framed your serious brow,
and now they fall lifelessly
Atop a withered face -

I kiss your hollow cheeks.
(not certain if you’ve noticed)
I want to take you in my arms
and never, ever let go.

Instead, I place my hand on yours
and cry a little - we both do.
Your eyes have no gladness
And the wine, no savor.

We drink nonetheless
Sitting side by side in silence.
And for the first time in a long time
i am afraid, and quite alone.

–

2007

I lock the studio door,

heaving an empty sigh.

I’ve drawn you on a serviette,
and saved it for my eyes.

There’s your face, I see you!

In peach, and yellow, and blue.

The paint underneath my fingernails,

is all I have left of you.

——

2008

1

My tree-house house

Sunshine seeps

through the back door

where my pot-plant grave yard

morns it’s pale flowers,

and the paint peels

from the white walls.

When we met at last

how fast my chest

rocking rhythmically

with your impossible words

whilst mine, silently said,

(If only you knew)

your whispering lips

are keeping me from sleep.

—–

Denbigh Rd

my tree-house house hidden from view

where no one can enter, except my dearest you

my tree-house house warmed with winter fires

stuffed full of acorns and bits of broken tree

I lie on the green couch, book against my knee

dreaming that my dearest is lying next to me.

—

don’t worry
I’m fine tonight
sure, I like the quiet,
the drone of the heating unit
the tap tap tapping of the keys

(I’m writing to myself it seems)

and the noises that aren’t really there
thought i hear them just the same.
Don’t bother calling,

I’m really fine alone
I ought to read that book
and play a little piano
if it’s no too loud.

I like the solitude, the time to think
and god! how I ought to think

don’t worry, honestly
I like the quiet
the tap tapping

quiet.

98103103

—–

11 o’clock

We wake up together
I look at the clock
the morning’s almost passed.
If we just lie here
for ten minutes, or an hour
we won’t miss much,
just the morning.

11 o’clock turns to noon
whole days can pass this way,
it’s cold outside my tiny room
the sky’s a tired grey.

The phone rings. I ignore it.
but the noise has filled my head,
I wrap the blanket twice around me
unsure of the date or day
Let’s lie here a while longer
whisperingly, I say.

I wake up unnerved
You left me undisturbed. I did not hear the door
the blanket’s on the floor.
A night’s sleep and all the morning
and yet and yet I’m yawning…
but I’ve not missed much,
just the morning.

99104104

2007

They march together
dressed in black and gold
everywhere is cold

the ladies’ sly smile’s
shiver

and no one says a word

………..

I remember last night’s after party
no wine did touch my lips
nor salmon slices or drinks on ice
I’d sooner have been sick
no dollar was spared, no waiter cared
for surly they were well tipped.

They talked of art, but the best part
was surly the women’s parade.
With fake breasts heaving
through soft black leather,
(they must all shop together!)
Their white teeth beaming
whilst forcing a smile—
and as for demeanor,
they they couldn’t be meaner
Kissing, snickering, bickering
Bitch.

2007

Glasses help me see
Magnify the T, S and E
And glasses help me read
the E, I after C
And all the words
That deceive
like sorrow, tenderness
And greed

2007:

Approaching station Anywhere
He asks to carry my load
Cognitive train wreck
I kiss another toad.

Forget the fairy lights,
of our classy abode
I’ve only my shadow
flat on the road.

2006

Your mind is somewhere
far from here

i feel your heart
beat against my cheek
and now -
your far away eyes

(I swear I would climb the highest peak

to hear a beat
for me)

100105105

2005:

Heavy headed I drive
In the wrong direction,
and my eyes swell.

Windscreen wipers
beat one-two, one
Toward the ocean

Chopin comforts me
His arms tight around my neck
oh sweet soothing piano
(Like chocolate cake
from Sylvia’s oven)

I wait.

I see love burning
as the sun sets
Next to her moon.

Lucky waves,
forever crashing and never being blamed.
And constant sun,
waking happy and unaware

that even you
(the giver of
life)
will one day burn out too.

2004:

Wine
And
Night
And
Skin
And
Eyes
Gaze
Down
the
Street
Where
Lights
Shine
and
Hearts
Beat

2004:

I listened to the fast, little man.
His words vacillate
I am dizzy.

I stare into his eyes
he looks away as I expected he would
Kicking king to the floor
I yawn, check.

Plastic-wrap yourself over my soul
Hammer nails into the wall
Look at the pretty, pretty painting.

My head hurts
Alcohol swooshes around my gut
I creep to the loo,
Hunched like a villain.

It is colder in the bed.
I find the switch
and shudder, check mate.

2004:

Slow as a slithering shadow
In the dead of night
She moves around upstairs
Afraid to sleep

In a sharply lit room.
The keys of her computer
chant ‘I love you’.

The cubed face morphs into his
(Without the kisses,
without the deep breath)

Her eyes sting
Dissolving with the rest of her
Into nothing at all.
Not even sleep.

2003:

A girl is tied to a rose
Naked and laughing out loud.
Her world spins behind her
Dirty and proud.

A rose lies naked on a girl
stripped of its foliage
Petals plucked
from her bud, and
a multifaceted sphere

lies

flat on her pillow
(waiting )
for naked laughing out loud.

101106106
2003:

Wild recollections of
Sleep wondering
In the middle of the road
Shivering in a frosty dream

Flying from the car
Falling from the clouds
Tripping over my Self
Respect runs along the gutter.

(Where are my shoes?)

Locked away in that big house.

Like a Fire-Works Show, We’ll Go

by Ilana E. Medici 1682

Twas upon a pale-blue light,

A child kissed his last good-night,

When go’eth he unto the flame,

Till nothing of him doth remain.

From oceans wilt not a whimper be,

Come’th from them nothing to mourn.

When furious winds and blistering storms,

Hath blown thy whistling, crackling horns.

And the oceans how they’ll thunder!

Come’th lightning’s final flash,

Whence treetops sear like paper,

As cigarettes doth to ash.

Nor sounds nor shadow doth remain,

but scattered sparks here to yond,

Did go’ethe he unto the flame,

A child who had’eth once a name.

And when all hath forgot’n,

How wilt darkness e’er know,

That ‘ere upon a lifetime,

A long, long time ago…