(the 10th and last part)
Good Morning … ! Surprised?
That's what comes from me going away
so long and so far and
not staying in my bed at night,
but there's so much to see before breakfast,
so much to do before the eye-curtains go up
and let the light in & the night out
the back door
to wait in the quiet back street
for the night-life to begin again.
from 'Dreaming' in I sleep, I dream (night-life.html)
You always have spoken.
I didn't know that.
I used to hear you,
and think that it was
I never recognized
my own voice.
How is that possible?
When I hear you now,
close & old,
you. Now I do:
My oldest friend,
My only own heart.
from 'Soft' in My Heart
I still miss you incredibly.
I miss your face close to mine,
feeling your eyebrows
& your cheek bones
& your chin
I miss breathing
close to your skin
& filling up
on the smell
I miss your breath,
a bit smoky,
the sound of your voice;
how it vibrated
when we lay
Why are you (still) the only person I want to talk to
when I become quiet? Or even,
not talk to. Just sit with.
from 'You' in You, Me & the others
Ownership: A memory
I miss the ground under my feet belonging
to me. I remember it carrying me. I remember
not doubting that
I miss the air in my lungs being mine
to keep and to
let go of.
In and out.
I miss the sun-shinings smelting in the top
layers of my skin and staying there
The sun was a part of my skin then. I was part of the
light, part of the earth, part of the air.
Nothing left me that wasn't mine first.
It came to me because I owned it. The
freedom. The keys to the
I own nothing now. I am poorer than ever I
Only what is already in me is mine.
The earth gives me nothing.
The sun doesn't come.
The air is foreign.
I am very far from home.
from 'Once' in Homeland
I feel the air against me.
I have to push
to keep moving.
like gasping while swimming,
but I'm not:
normal (I think) to
others. Not like
a landed fish.
I push forward &
feel the air against my skin.
Flowing over me:
in the sunshine.
I feel tired from the air fighting me & surprised: Why resist me?
There's only breathing & pushing.
From 'Me' in You, Me & the others
Why do you do it?
You fall so quickly,
& pull me down
after you, &
I fall further.
I fall in love
And there is nothing I can do
but wait where no one sees me
for the light to come back.
Why do you do it?
From 'Heartbroken' in My Heart
A love song
I love you.
You are so
bigger inside than any spirit place
I ever encountered or
(because I'm sure I never knew him)
Like you really.
I love you.
I forget & so do you.
You forget with me &
before me & for me.
& then I remember
what I should
Not polluted with:
I should have
I mustn't ...
You have more faith than I ever thought possible for a hole in my chest.
More faith in life & people & goodness & love & the future & yourself & even me.
More faith than I ever hoped to live on.
I love you.
from 'Soft & Darkness' in My Heart (link: softness-darkness.html)
Like falling on rocks.
Slippery, wet rocks, smelling of slimy seaweed
& broken barnacles
with the water swirling around them
& coming in and going out
Sharp scratchy places that make you bleed
So that you wonder what you're doing out there
& you remember clearly seeing how beautiful it looked from the quiet beach
& how you thought it would be better to stand out there closer to waves
& this is how we learn not to go out to every hard place that sparkles in the sun.
The fear of death will do that for you.
I am sure I have believed that I'm most afraid of people.
But, perhaps, people don't scare me as much as they should.
Not enough for me not do go out to the hard sparkly places.
From The Others in You, Me & The Others
Do we hide our souls in things
to keep them safe till after our hearts leave us?
Do we always know that that will happen?
Is mine hidden in the dry, powder-white-brown blades of grass
I remember stabbing my feet in summer?
Or in those cracked hot pavements?
Or the bleached-baking tar roads
gravelling in the light & dark?
Maybe in the hot sand, sinking away as I
pushed up that same dune for the hundredth time,
or in the broken barnacles
stabbing and cutting while I breathed
the salt and water deeply, into
the lung hollows under my heart?
Can we loose our souls through our feet by accident?
Did I hide a part of my soul in that sagging, rusted fence that
I never forgot seeing those huge bugs with the unrealistically long legs
What a strange place to hide a soul.
& what about in those white flowers? The ones with the egg-yellow centres that hung heavily at my sister's front door & I never learned the names of after all those years because you don't have to call things that are close?
(It's funny how I remember most things best
with the souls of my feet
and some things only with the backs of my
Maybe I just left my soul in the air.
Hanging like the prayers of a thousand years hang in the Notre Dame;
like a cloud of pollen dust being blown from the field
into the forest, slowly, still visible with the other lost souls bumping up against
each other there.
Maybe that's where all souls go.
At the end.
I look for my soul more now;
now that my heart has grown stronger & harder.
The softness of it is rarer & more beautiful to me.
From 'Things' in Homeland
I sleep ...
(part 8 of 'Nightlife'. A night poem in 10 parts)
All my day-dreams surround me,
at me, mingling
with each other and folding
ridiculously fluffy egg-white fantasies into the
not beating too much,
keeping the air in:
bosses in my kitchen and
children's voices: mine
in my pyjamas
on the school's front lawn -
a navy blue sky
at midnight signalling the end of the world and stairs
going nowhere in the dark
Dèjà vu dèjá vu dèjá vu dèjá
Reality escapes; stirring.
from 'Nightlife' in I sleep, I dream (night-life.html)
Fiction is the lie that tells the truth ... (Neil Gaiman)