This has Never Worked: Four poems of Solitude and Longing.

This has Never Worked: Four poems of Solitude and Longing.

 

Rust.

The chord changes
I try to hoard
I find it strange as

I comprehend your
Jazz-like rasp.
A whine that will never again
Be miss
Taken for a boyish
Imitation.

You offer me an answer
To what rests at the end
Of the high school
Labyrinth around each
Bend.

When every
Thing I write glows
Myrkily
As a high school leaf.

Myrkily as an innocent
Light upon the water
If the swimming pool.

Your chords move
Like flowers.
Adorning your voice.

Dm.a.a.

 

Vision.

Life is. Film.

I hear scenery behind
Your voice.

Who is directing this?

You haunt
Escondido.

You haunt the back
Seats of Poway
High school Performing
Arts Center.

As boys laugh hysterically.

You haunt that
Beatific be
Holding on to the thrill
Of an invisible
Crowd.

Cut.

What is an adult
Reality if not
A broken promise?

A loss of
Nerve. A failure
Of attention.

A narrative grown weary.
Scripted.

Dm.a.a.

 

Microcosm.

Every word is literal.
Images painted in the inside
Of an orifice.

A microcosm
That professes
An angelic vision.

A mystery that unfurls
And makes reference to its
Self having become
For its self
World.

Even the laughter, hyena-
Like, of conquest and of purification
Trembles as it obscures you.

The microcosm
Is a mirror for the
Universe.

Dm.a.a.

Coda. Sponge.

Some have never felt
The pain of longing.
Content to fade but never melt
In vain belonging.

You were an expert in the
Art of love upon a resume
That you filled out.

But I can only
Dream of your dreams
And of your silver cats.
And I am filled with chilling
Certainty and nervous
Doubt.

A murky lake once
Transparent.
A memory?
Should I have splashed this
Pond breaking the innocence emblazoned upon
Its surface

Before the muck settled?

No. Oh but could I
Sacrifice my love of
Language to subvert it
To you?

Could I use philosophy
To step out of philosophy?
Could I embarrass my
Self again to only feel
Thus?

Like a sponge.

The godliness of your aethereal
Voice all ready disappears behind
Abstractions and deconstructions.

Why did I bother to learn any
Thing? If only to impress
You. Humanity is not

Recognised any longer.

And the light upon the lake slips
Through my fingers.

Dm.a.a.