The Preoccupation of Andrei Tarkovsky

dusky morning, i awake
these days are longer than
all of those nights
we drugged ourselves for sleep

where creatures greet us
in the gravel somewhere
under the tree cover
star watching and dream walking

a penny for my thoughts
(so i can buy back
those memories)

of building a nest, anything
to believe in other than this

i'm sorry, drinking is the
best way i know to open up.
________________________________________________________________
untitled 11

"she is mine"
and her shadow
climbed over my spine

haunting every neuron
through
every synapse
every axon

she is happy when she is with me
:i believe:
i am happy when i am with her.


________________________________________
untitled 14


the bird sat on a limb,
and listened to the afternoon breeze;
occasionally, dancing to the
sighing and swaying and swishing and singing
and singing and swaying and swishing and sighing
of the breeze.

as it passed the little bird accompanied
its new friend, the breeze,
listening to it's travels:
moaning and meeting and mourning and missing
and missing and mourning and moaning and meeting.

finally, they parted ways.
and the little bird sat on a limb
content it's its day.

and, i traced your every step...
and i retrace your every step...

with a whole in my dreams.




__________________________________________________________

Der Kosmonauten
~ heroineyes ~

i've learned to read the way you do
my eyes can speak words when
your lips are standing still

you spell love differently
and i feel like an old movie
where i can just runaway

.forever:

sounds so meaningless in
nauseous, possibly inspired
deafened, picturesque daydreams

________________________________________________
the end is a place to stay, not distance

ii fell in love with you
like when i walk down
my street; drunk at 3
in the afternoon,

crumbling, at times,
like the wet pavement
i stepped in; while
drunk with your radiance.



 





david observes bathsheba ~ heroineyes ~
i don't have long days,
only longer nights...where i
wish i were sleeeping, or
hand-holding by the roadside.

i've never been sure
of some things and
i usually let them go.

a plan b,
turn on the lights,
dreaming doesn't work
anymore.







***********************************************************************

pictionary on a saturday night (thinking of something else)

sometimes,
i know you're singing about me.
but i know it's just pretend,
like when i dreamt of blowing up
my place of employment.

these delusions help me sleep.

not because i'm alone. (i'm not)
not because i'm scared. (unless you are an 8 ft. spider)

because i can't sleep thinking otherwise.

like the stark honesty of
looking over the side of the 100th floor
in your hotel as it burns to the ground.

a doctor once told me
it is
healthy to be misunderstood...
once in a while.

and a city full of one way streets
leads to all sorts of places
but always loops back around
left left right left left right right right...
always beginning at the end

a terrible delusion it is:
to hear you singing about me;
watching buildings explode;
from my 100th floor perch-
dreaming of rolling over and
smashing the book ends
that hold this chapter in place.

________________________________________
swallowed by the earth
i learn of dying,
a strange and complicated process.
where romance isn't blooming flowers
and chinese silks colored green and pink.

i know a hollowness of pictures
where you don't look my way
but somewhere that your
heart once glowed hope.

i('ll) try telling you it's all the same

please don't take it so hard
sometimes you hold it over my head
like a rotten mistletoe
where romance is a monument
encased in ash colored grey and brown.

the warm spring brought
a melody of rain and tires
splashing puddles of water
out of gutters and on my shoes

i try telling you it's all the same



***************************************************************************
part 2

people say i drive like
their grandfather on sunday

i dont...
i am responsible for your life...
i love you...
i swear i'll take care of you...

but

i realised today...
i'm a poor driver alone...

i speed

i run stop signs

i run red lights

i honk

i scream

i have absolutely no worry of my well-being
or what will happen, i am lost
i am flying, and

i sing, i dance

"i want my hands in your hair
pulling your face closer"

and all the while i'm thinking
of you not her...