Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fond

It's hard to see you when you're gone,
And baby, it's been months.
Was I not good enough for you,
Or just not great enough?

I'm too aware of all my faults,
But it's still hard to see
What I might have been or done
That you'd want rid of me,

Or maybe you meant what you said:
You had to leave, and then
You truly mean to keep our pledge
To reunite again,

But in those months, I met someone,
And we can't help ourselves.
It's true that absence makes the heart
Grow fond of someone else.

Invisible

Do you know the pain of being invisible?
I don't think you do.
My unnoticed movements mean nothing to you.
Your kiss would be sweet;
Your hate would be better than nothing.

Do you know the price of being invisible?
It costs nothing and all.
What wouldn't I pay to be rid of it?
Any thing, any choice, every moment, every breath,
To be seen by you, seen with you.

Do you know the worth of being invisible?
It is freedom.
It as good as brings me life.

Ghosts

I was fourteen.
I wanted what I could not have,
From whom I could not have it.
Never again did I want that badly.

It made me say terrible things.
I'm sick just thinking of it,

But I did not stop wanting.
I'd hardly started.
So many times saying three little words
To get what I wanted.

Those lousy lies to lovely people.
I'm sick just thinking of it.

My wants take the form of serving a self
Who then can't be devoted to somebody else.
I'm just showing off when I offer my coat.
Chivalry's dead, and I don't believe in ghosts.

And it only took me five years to see:
If I can't be devoted, then why should she?
I'll be through thinking of it once I know:

Am I forgetting or never learning?
Is my heart broken, or missing?

Marks of Wisdom

Her eyes sparkle as younger ones,
Surrounded by marks
Of wisdom behind.

I gaze too long, but you
Do not turn away.  You are not
Like the others. You understand.

Teach me to be a proper lover,
Mature and venturesome,
A holy man.

I am your knight;
I am your helper.
I am your sucker.

Nostalgenfreude

They live every day and night
As though it is their last,
Unaware that there's a future or a past.

Unawareness is their shield,
Their coat of arms,
Oblivious to their and others' harm
As they tear tiny pieces from each other,
Searching for what they want.

Ah, to be a teenager again.

Dedicated to a Violinist I've Never Met

Her hands move as if sentient,
Sprightly-fingered things.
Her bow deftly draws music
From two sets of strings.

See her dance, understated,
Lithely keeping the time.
Her notes gust through my vanes,
Driving meter and rhyme.

Her red lips and white grin
Are almost too much;
Offer passionate music
With a jubilant touch.

Oh, to see inspiration
Shaped by her hands, so sure.
This show might look contrived
Without her presence pure.

She's more than a body
To warm some man's bed.
I want to know her
-The Performer- instead.

Draught

She and I go together like drugs and wine:
A draught of destruction that tastes just fine.
Must resist this desire I cannot prevent,
But the loins want what the loins want.

Thawed

You were as spring:
Bringing new foliage.
You thawed me.

But you were not for me.
As spring brought mud and rain,
You grew unappealing.

It was never you.
It was never us.
I was infatuated with hope
For more than infatuation.

As Seen On TV

Contrary
To reports of its beauty,
Infatuation is hell.
It goes like this:  I'm Angel
Or she's the Mother Confessor.
I'm bound to come apart if I chase her.

I know that Mulder did have his Scully,
But I know that life's not As Seen On TV.

Of people who say I need hope to go on,
I've had my fill.
Sometimes hope is the thing
That keeps us standing still.

Defeat

The only things sicker than those I've done
Are those I've planned to do.
I want to purge the disease of me.
I strive to be worthy of you.

I hate the world outside of us.
They'd pull us down if they could.
There's so much to hate, but the worst of all:
They convinced me to doubt in your good.

I want your help getting free of them all,
And you've shown me the best weapon.
I use my horror of the dark world without
To beat back the darkness within.

Two Seconds

A dear old friend in
No small distress
Came up in a flurry and
Sat at my left.

I could see by his face that he
Needed to vent,
With no word of greeting, he began to
Plead his lament.

Knowing well the old tale of the friend
On my left side,
I chanced a glance at the
Girl on my right.

"Don't you hate ignored passions, the
Way they explode?"
I hadn't ever, today, until
Two seconds ago.

Why I Write, Part x+22: Release

My pen, heart, and mind race
Over the page,
Hurry through a flurry of fast-fading ideas.
Completed, hand, heart and mind release,
Conquered by peace.

Confess Me

I'm tired of hiding
Behind lies,
Cowering from someone
I love.
Pull off the mask; take me to task;
Just ask.
I want you
To give me an excuse
To confess the ways I think of you.

Do Something

I started a fight;
Leaped from so far up
It felt like flight.
I chased you.
What else was I to do?

I skied straight down that gully,
Pursued you, a geek's Aphrodite,
Ran so far I'm still dizzy,
But I healed.  It just might be
Time to do something crazy.

The Breakup Song

We were like soup.
Too soon,
Too hot
Became too cold.
There's some left in my beard.
It tastes weird.
This thing that I feared
From the start,
In my heart
I told you so.
I knew all along.
That's what I mean when I sing
Our breakup song.

Spring in Montana

Spring comes like a redhead here.
It's freezing you out
'Til it burns your skin.
Violent swings we blame
For the dissonance within.

Spring comes like a ram,
Horny, hard charging,
Woolly shoulders packed tall.
It's fertile and violent
If it comes at all.

Springtime in Montana
Means snow in your convertible
Or boiling in your coat,
The only perfect time
To be a mad poet.

Your Health

For the good of your health,
Don't drink yourself dumb.
Smart people don't have thoughts
That have to be numbed.

For the good of your health,
Stop looking so close.
It's knowing too much
That will damage us most.

For the good of your health,
Just do as you're taught.
Never open your mind
To unorthodox thought.

Spoiled

My mind fully boiled
Making connections.
That's how my mind spoiled,
Succumbed to infection,

Thought my self out of time.
I act young and feel old.
I'm the mis-metered line, slant-rhymed,
A square peg in a round world.

I despair for the square hole
I might finally fit.
My mind pushes and pulls,
Won't rest 'til I find it.

Benevolent Guardian of Knowledge

No clown,
I've never seen him frown.
He wants to be liked,
But needs to be right,
Insists he's as open as he can be
As long as we look at what he wants us to see.
Benevolent Guardian of What's Right,

You're in for a fight.