Song

Unpublished. The interpolated italicized bits are from a misheard song fragment that wandered in and stayed. Imagine your own picture of a broken bedframe here.

Song

We speak too much who speak of love
in singular, pale tinted glow,
as though to say would make it so,
make touch the same as being touched,
claim ownership at third remove
these twisting paths. We speak too much.

I would see

We ask too much who ask of love
to bear this weight, witness unnamed
baggage bent so lately lamed
laid heavy beside your broken crutch,
a battered cart when the pills wear off
and the road wears on. We ask too much.

I would see you dancing

We seek too much who seek in love
strange solitude in constant keep
of another’s watch, the ragged sweep
of velvet gliding over the mirror’s clutch,
to free the image as the glove
frees the mailed fist. We seek too much.

I would see you dancing
I would see

We learn too much who learn in love
the awful depths true loss can mine,
the child’s meek coffin the shattered spine
of words gone smash, to waken in a rush
naked screaming in the snow; I’ve
never said this but we learn too much.

I would see you dancing
I would see
I would see you dancing

We find too much who find in love
both means and damp motive past
the boundaries between first and last,
dissolving as you rise find no such
arms still lingering for you above
the twisted bedsheet. We find too much.

I would see you dancing
I would see
I would see you dancing
home oh home to me

We say enough who say we love
and mean in faith to steer it true
then revel with the wrecking crew
on broken bed and unstoppered scotch;
call the splinters a treasure trove,
come laugh with the mirror and say enough.