Tuesday, March 31, 2015

it's seven
waxing gibbous
two men asleep

too attached?
the tears are surprising

Thursday, March 26, 2015

p a r i s last quarter

it's dark
under      a bird net
inside      a hall toilet
i can't hear the boulevard montparnasse
the owl that flies over carrefour expresse

posts said clear but the sills

the lift door
below this top floor
opens whining
shuts just as bitterly

I'm making 2 films about a fountain
30 drops
but like spring
they are subject to change

the moon's last quarter opens
lent is spent
in Notre Dame des Champs (not on the tourists' destination)
an old woman arranges palm fronds and red carnations
young blue-robed monks and nuns bounce through the nave
gave me times for complines, vespers

repairing winter

Saturday, March 14, 2015

a little wine perhaps
but not much
for it takes to time sluggishly
which is too precious to muddle

rather this
solitary clear-sightedness
becoming one who watches,
listens and continues

Wednesday, March 11, 2015

last shoes

did taxes yesterday
found the receipt for your last shoes
bought in January
you were thrilled with them
loved nice things

i cried like a baby remembering you in those shoes
so careful to keep salt off
to clean them every evening

they hurt a bit to wear
as each bit of clothing began to
a rubbed seam
a rough textile
all clothes became
pools of worn rubble

chafing your easily bruised body

an enclosure
that you
2 nights before you died
ran to escape

i've kept the receipt among the tax things

i want to think of those shoes again
just you and the shoes
for in those first few minutes
when we bought them, you smiled
held my hand
and we were happy