notes on harnessing the flavor of strawberries

i haven't listened (a slow long dance)
this is the sun
you are the marching morning, life
(with your tree branch hair)
and blue skies

i am only turning orange
at the sight of you
where tides break
and night chases us everywhere

so here, the lovely grass
no one but me
watching the earth move
hearing buckley slide by
i am open to anything
but too tired to keep on

the details are blurring sometimes
like how certain songs remind me
of this woman or that
certian smells remind me of summer:
swimming pools and cut grass, sweat

for so long i couldn't look at her
or didn't want to hear from her
couldn't grasp the wood
that kindled friendships
or fake the orgasm of glances

these are just a few of my days

even this one will remind me
of someone or something somehow

i've known such fine scents and sights
so many hands on hands
fingernails at tables, smiles at no one
walks in the dark alone, arching lips

but these are just a few of my days
and most of them count
more than magic needs to

so here, trapped in slow houses
laying in every room of an apartment
laughing at nothing
sighing with no small amount of sadness
but glad for every reach and raised eyebrow
every army i let loose
every sky i sat beneath means more
than this poem ever will

if it weren't so, it wouldn't be worth writing.

i can't hand my life to you
however much i wish i could
i can't hand my memories over
lock, stock and arched backs
or pass to you my secret sensations
or harness the flavor of strawberries
in words, but it's only fair
to try


there is no urgency here just now
no storm or cloud coming
just sighs and smiles, long doorways
i never walked through
and all the fine carved ones i did

this is the soft underbelly of my songs

the rest is passing time
like kidney stones or giving birth

and how sweet each one was

how fine the world can be

much too fine for me much too fine for you
and full of all the softest saddest songs
that ever drew a tear
and bent on breaking your lips for a smile

just like always

2005-10-01 | 10:49 p.m.
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