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Last Summer

After the dress code had been properly broken.
After the gift had been carefully opened.
After he was sternly instructed
to stop the practice of poetry
by someone in authority.

The tabloids kept from the public the official cause of death was an unwanted heart
with judicial misconduct, corruption, malpractice and starvation being listed
as only contributing factors that led him to finally give up towards the end.
So for lack of evidence and so everyone could feel relieved his life was definitely over
and because it looked good on paper…no charges were ever filed against another.

Whereas long after his letters had been put to the sword
and by the time they found his lying corpse feeding the earth
for someone else to move it to somewhere else that doesn’t matter.
The coroner accused the sun. Then put the wind on trial. And convicted all the animals in absentia
for scattering flesh and bones.

Then concluded but never stated these last words were almost prophetic:

If he is not released in time.
If his egotistical whims are not granted.
He will inevitably die…at least sooner than expected.

____________________________

The Prenuptial

According to the prenuptial…winner takes all…in the divorce proceedings finalized next week.
The looser leaves with his heart…he doesn’t want either.
She takes the beauty of all the seasons yet to be…along with his last Harvest Moon
while he takes the burning embers of love…he wanted her to own…longer.

And because money was never an issue his golden pen is still trying to guarantee
child support and alimony…and happiness for who ever is currently…her favorite…in bed.

Where it all went wrong is hard to say.
According to Court documents it is the usual story.
According to her, according to him…they agreed
she wasn’t responsible…and he was completely…for the end.

So psychiatrists were brought in from around the globe
to solve the unsolvable…Freudian problems.

Europe was discussed as not nearly far enough away an asylum…for him to be exiled to.
So he agreed to further conditions of abstinence…from political and religious discussions
and to continue to study the names of every current sports figure…of the ancient world.

After filing papers did she ever again think of him with the same tenderness…as during their short walks home?
He may never know because she was always prone…to those types of mistakes in judgement…for others.
But since he has been to the summit and he had been to the abyss…even his grand daughter learned to fear him
because he simply called too much and scribbled inappropriately too much…from both places.

____________________________

For Marcie

We met in the asylum.
She was Jewish and vegetarian.
I was a God and on lithium.

My mysticism enchanted her then,
this was before she left.
I found her later on
still Jewish and vegetarian
she found my divinity…lost.

So we talked
over beer
and records
and in the kitchen on Thorpe Street.
She wanted to know of the war
if Christmas was still coming
if Israel was still awaiting the Messiah.

“I am lost.” I tell her…it is my only magic.
We are not lovers…so I write her this poem
because her smile is still warm.

_____________________________

For Nancy

We parted in the judge’s chambers.
You talking of your dreams
as I…embraced by chains…tried to remember mine.

I believe you expected too much from the prisoner.
I never promised to stay hard…forever.
It is enough I am the strongest you will ever know.

Do not be deceived.
I’ve not forgotten
clutching the earth.
And I am proud to say
I was alone
when I lost my mind
for all the right reasons.

Now, let it haunt you to remember the Bible story
only angels will whisper to my children:
No messiah ever came West or East of Eden
…to shoplift water and wine.

And your groom should know he will never
face the miracle requests that slaughtered the Lamb.
As for you this is the last vigil I will ever pay thee:
I’m ashamed to say…I believed until the very end
…even your lies.

______________________________

Obsessing About The Art of War

As the story unfolded between manic house work
to laughter and tears and beers in the peaceful garden
to wondering how long it could last to arguing about the hot water
to wanting to be saved
…to full blown hostilities being declared on the most vulnerable
in an instant he again became a full member of the Dead Relationships Society.

Until peace finally returned to rewrite this chapter to be:
He will never be your friend. Because you are everything he is not.
For he wanted too much…for you to be the hated enemy
…he could hold even closer to his heart.

And I know it sounds absurd but it may be true.
He only wanted to use your beauty and soul
…to torture with his obscene crippled mind
and with what ever dregs of pure love
he hoped more than anyone could try to believe…he might have left.

__________________________________

Love is cruelest

When your heart is breaking because you know…it’s over
and it ended because you tried too hard
or not hard enough…to hold her…in your arms.

Love is cruelest

When you know…you let it die
easier than you gave it birth
and abandoned her for something you wanted…because she is what you needed

Love is cruelest

When you remember…the beauty of her soul
even more than the beauty…of her body

But love is cruelest…of all

Because just when you are sure it will never end
…it always does.

________________________________

For Emily

The Apology

I know he would have survived better by leaving the world like Van Gogh
and with one less ear or with one fully severed testicle
…instead of leaving a gift from his childhood, my deer.

Because when it comes to life’s cruelty it is not always easy
to make a vessel of poetry…from the clay of every living tragedy.
After all…it is not like he never knew the terror of 10,000 nites of lonely confusion
or could stand being brave burning with the fires of love for very long
or ever knew what he was doing for very long
or until…it was too late.

So forgive me…at least as much…as I beg more than anyone I know can pray
you will never have to beg…to be forgiven this much.

________________________________

For her mother

Wedding with out the Bride

I don´t mean to suggest that I loved you the best.
You made it too easy for me to never greet
all my rivals for you to know why
I didn’t I love you better instead of only more
than the gathering of all their hearts combined.

And if I was cruel it wasn’t by choice.
It was only because I wanted you so desperately
to know I was unselfish in the end by not trying harder
to be kinder with time just to welcome you deeper
into my leprous arms.

But for no other reason than to remind myself
by now even I know the rumors are true:
You were wrong…my embrace is no good for anyone
who wanted to learn even this much
how to love…me.

_________________________________

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