Sunday, March 12, 2017

the altruist-narcissist dreams a dissociative dovecote

... he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe
... upon all the living and the dead—James Joyce

one morning for a few seconds
upon waking

I knew all of your secrets, knew your byways in and out
your off and on upside-about sideways glancing of a soul
—that wary askance that keeps you semi-whole—
till you did creep upon me, half-asleep, within-without

and these rooftop morning
pigeons, not the least dawning peep

now ceased to coo in their redoubt
and—though in mourning—blew

both west and east
as lonely souls released
they, madly, flapping flew

sadly, both ways only
as you


Saturday, March 11, 2017

such bleak mornings
your angry ghost at the foot
of my bed