In a country full of clocks.

My heart is set in a land full of ticking
infernal clocks that tell me the negative of what I want.
I am not allowed to latch my hand onto that hand,

that large slender hand.
I hope my emotion that fills me with misery and worry
to not be the breaking point.
Between two things
that share a lucky passing connection.
Between two points
from here to there is just a far away place.
Between my head and yours
dreams fill the space with time.
Between the next tic-tock of the minute
I feel torn amongst this world of mine and
the world I don’t know existed.

I hoped I died when that heart of mine expired
yet, yet, nothing was there when the metal tore me apart
there was an empty space
it was gone,
oh dear
there is no end to this.

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Red String

There’s a red red cord that only you and I can see.
It winds around you in circles tightly but not enough to bind you. Only one line extends from you to me a link between you to me. No one can see this. Its our connection that we know exists. I can call to you by tugging on my end of the cord, sending silent messages in hope that they reach you.

That line between you and I is as long as it needs to be. Sometimes its a meter, other times no space at all, and at times on the other side of what I know exists. Over that horizon and a few more is you. Living, working, knowing of this faintly present bond. A round circle on a wall marks the hour, counts down the time till that line shortens elastically to zero.

Deaf Man Passes Cards and Pens

Deaf man passes cards and pens

To each table with occupants

Asking for money

A bit of money

To fuel his life

With change that was not his own

What change can become of this?

Not much at all but more walking

Passing cards and asking with

A small card for change.

Change that is not given

For the skeptic

Does not know fully

What shoes he wears.

He’s gone far away

Far away from my hand
my arm, me
He is not by my side
in physical presence
I am now aware that I am
ill with a desire to
be back together again
where two halves
make the chubby round whole
egg again
like yolk to white
cat to its nip
chocolate to the lady
and everything nice
For awhile and some time more
the world will be a bit
off
off kilter where two beings embrace the
earth in hope that the distance
dissipates and no amount of air is too far
in this day, this moment where there is an
electric connection
between that egg and that white
to make something fascinating
so fantastic that the girl would
cry happily with joy
that she could have that chocolate
as if he stepped through a window
in a frame in an instant
that need that want could be
calmed for just awhile
a little while
where the chocolate melts pleasantly
and mixes into her.

Vinegar and water

My furry neighbor beast cat

has taken to my tulips

like chocolate to the woman

with a sweet tooth.

I for one don’t like this relationship

for the tulips are mine!

My remedy to this is to spray about

a mix of vinegar and water about

my pretty flowers,

in hope that they will see

the rising sun

of Dawn.

The White Furry beast next door

The large white beast next door

I found last morning swiping at

my dearest children.

One child was lost

the others thankfully are

safe from that cat.

I didn’t know that the tulip

children are poisonous

to that cat.

But why does she have to

behead my children.

When their life is already so short

in growth, the blooming petals

reach skyward

and give some colour into this world of mine.

Cut short by sharp claws

cut short by beheading.

My Dear Children

My Dearest Children

Lay scattered on the floor

Heads, many heads separated from their bodies

wilting under the sun

their blood and beauty wasted

The murderer took a machete to their

slender necks

for they wouldn’t

be the perfect toy

to the hairy

Murderer.

My day was

miserable for I

was left to mop up their mangled

decapitated bodies

and wilting heads.

I wept at the loss of beautiful children

Children that would not see tomorrow.

On green bubbles

Little green bubbles bunched up all on a vine

brown vines to tie them bind them all as a familial unit

Inseparable, to nothing except time and gravity

t&g makes for an irresistible duo to bring the bubble into a chemical mix of

tart & wine. sugar ripened to the peak of flavour

thick skins engulf the round ovalesque bubbles

Green green grape fear not for I am here to save thee from

the rot you wish for, the seed to contact the earth and

renew yourself away. again and again

the seed is here or isn’t

at all. GMO green grapes deny me this pleasure

but takes away the fun the delight of ejecting with pursed lips

the fruit of your labours

the dainty teardrop of your magnificent DNA

the lovechild of your green green bubble

encased with thick thick skins

that stretch from head to toe

without tear break

unmarred you are intact till my lips

surround your body and

tear you limb from flesh

and you are no more no

sustenance remains to

mark where you were

green green grape

 

I am a cookie dealer.

My youth and to now does not seem far apart
I once dealt cookies under the banner of helping girl guides
push cookies door to door, taking outrageous prices for meagre
boxes of cookies, mint, vanilla, and chocolate.
the three main staple flavors.

Now I deal cookies for similar purpose to help some poets
some sugar cookie monsters that need
simply that dark dark sweet cookie
that makes the user say
om nom nom nom
om nom nom nom some more please?

really I need some more cookies
please help I need my cookies sam.

Sure I can help but at a cost.
your cookie fix is funding my
charitable projects, groups, and poets.

You know the sugar and the cookie itself is not of my creation
its a product of culture, sweetness, and habit.

My habit is to sell these cookies,
it matters not to whom but
when the cookies may appear to be in excess.

Cookies here, there, and everywhere.

Tollhouse cookies, sugar, gingerbread,
molasses, snickerdoodle, raisin oatmeal,
white chocolate macadamia, chocolate chip!
Cookies of my desire. A gut craving for sweets.

Cookie cookie on the tray, oh!

Tell me if you can me mine?
Tell me if you taste sweet and divine?
Tell me if you can stay soft?
Tell me you won’t melt my resolve.

Tell me, Tell me cookie.

A new day, new snowstorm.

The night ticks on

measured by the ticking time on the clock.
I am waiting for the time to pass by when I can see the one who makes me laugh
merrily, dance, and fall in love with language all over again.

For this I can love anew to this one catalyst,

who lets me dream, a dream

wish my wishes

climb up towers and mountains

I waive at the world from the tallest point, the pinnacle

where I can send my gratitude, my love

to my love.
I wish to hold you again and make some happiness, in a smile

a laugh and all in between.