Monday, October 24, 2005

rugs and stunts

the places where you fell asleep
meticulously noted by
others who could
account where
you would

a library where you said your head
fell upon your desk all night, a
house where supper
went cold

a lover who believed in you
a holy sister too, freed
from her order

and your maraudering
complications uncovered


a just human to human touch
the persistent phone calls
from an ex wife you said
you never got

the hotshot lies

a dear little art gallery you found all by yourself
a hospital appointment
the Frenchman
the Asian
the cripple-infatuation so deftly handled
in the bike shed amongst summer roses
a sudden bladder infection
from a bug perhaps

old alibis

how we find you out
how we mock you
how we pity you
how we loved

you. For God knows what impossible
calculus it needs to keep
these plates spinning

threads breaking
with each

truth is a thick depth
not a thin surface
not all of us

on pursuing an exit
out of the psychosis
you project: oh the spaces
you have slept whilst others
kept their home fires burning

the clean sheet you are already pulling back
for another
the cover up

women clearing up after the Resurrection
no commitment too great for separation

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