here

how is it that I have a spread of cards, posted from your shore
to me and I've not sent one thing back,
I'm sorry for my lack baby, this thing's consumed me here
in the home that's not, without a certain you
I'll be a better form of man, given over to
the proper pursuit of us

parking

if i find you, out on the river slick,
the father plane, a right there rock,
i'd say 'see, see how I am' and you might
cock one wet ear and laugh
through dark ringlets a yawning mouth
the horror at that red, those lips,
still kiss-printed on a card
I keep in my wallet, that's yours
7 years on, they're still here - how
tacky these dark forensics and my
sweet secret darling, near 8 years passed

paen

I just got a poem in the mail that rhymed an'all
a real poetess at work, some scratch mind honey-bunch
sweet little thing, a blue-eyed mistress of quirk
and it brought me my deep seat out loud
a hunch sob from a heat place, the cough and cry of oh and I
a perfect syncro of you.
So now that that's the distance to here, oh yes,
keep em coming, I say
and I for my sins will return this tin thing
and ask where is Wally today.

#okayineedtocomebacknow

You're sleeping, I hope, tucked up in the that farwayarchway place we shared
I've not the means to say how but reaching back on a straight-edged bookshelf
I came to you, through New York New York and that one Mumford on a deck,
losing a coat (ah the rants) but finding you, that's the greatest trade ever
so how facing a slick run of river, some whipper-snipper growling out the distance
can i seek and say, I'm with you, there, tonight my sweet

this time round

there's a side-swipe world on the other
and the sides I've taken aren't you -
I can stare at two rivers all I want and not
find an outline of your hair or in the sky
a limit like your eyes but as I feel here, the
old world seeping, bubbling up slick and sodden
drowned papers wrung out and blow-dried till
they say what I suspected
I miss you and miss you and miss you