Did you heal that humbling heartbreak ringing as a bell through you? Did you conquer the stifling loss bitterly coating all your notebooks?
Did you find a stranger at your door clutching wine and headphones? Did they listen with hungry ears to all the truths you had to share?
Did they grab your wrists with passion dance you into the endless night? Did they calm your fears with a simple gesture hold you the way you always wanted?
Did they lead you astray, in that inspiring way? did you laugh together in the face of darkness? Did they mute the chill of rain upon your senses? push the mundanities of living back into their places?
O, how I wanted to be that person how I wanted to be the one standing there on some unexpected evening with that bottle and those tunes
I hope someone answered all your longing which came pouring from your pen and I pray that you’re still writing but now the song is sweeter
I hope someone answered you the way I always wished to…
The heat shifts between rooms from the front of the house, to the back on the bed, your curled form is laid I watch the sky as it cries in the street blowing my nose, counting the people they carry bags of food to their cars filled with treats and sweet desserts As I move to the kitchen, you stir for a second this day is turning dark in the light from the loft shadows dance, from the candles you lit by the stove, I pause to warm my hands not sure what to do, I don’t want to wake you I sit back at the window, take up my book but there are no new words to read and I place it back if only the story would change of it’s own accord O, I think it’s time for some movement a raising of the silence, let the music in just some small tune to warm this room and your sweet progression of chords kissing my ears I lie down beside you, cup your face whisper some sickly greeting as you focus up on me
Come on love, we should make a song you are the music and I am the words you are the music and I am the words we should make a song, my love we should make a song you are the music and I am the words you are the prettiest music and I am the most grateful words…
Tell me again, my teacher hungrily, I listen to your story ravenous, by candlelight calling from the sooty street
Incisions made with your deep insight the surgeon stillness of deftly poetic hands those wisdoms draped in laurel leaves infinite movement and such sweet inertia
Shower me, my master my naivety gladly surrenders in the wake of your delivery O Len, sing for me some story I can disassemble reverse engineer your experience give birth to my own interpretation
On a wicker throne in some Grecian harbour
my fountain pen refilling
I sip wine, imagining your women
one; she comes along
with askance eyes pawing over me
and the limits of my vague body
she whispers ‘touch me with your intellect’
but I shiver, stark in its absence
O, it’s the little things
the nuanced way you speak it out
the details and the clarity
the hilarious obfuscation
Christ, that galling crystal ball
I could never reach you
I’d be waving, I’d be waiting
breathing my vanilla thoughts to no one
but my drunk self
Hunched alone at the end of the bar
praying to you…
Spin me a yarn turn on my table O Leonard, you’re my man…