i've been ill for the last two months
and the sore throat and over-all lassitude
was it from sucking cock? or plane flight?
or the mere exhaustion of running 100% over the "holidays"?
as i lifted out of that
i got this digestion thing
which has been making itself more evident as the month has gone on
how to care for a sick person when i'm sick?
i'm being stingy, i think
wanting attention and nourishment
wanting more than he can offer me
the reason i never lived with him any length of time
in no way meaning i don't love him.
but i know when i'm hungry i tend to grab more
and i have
these last few months
and the more we think we have little
the less we have
maybe it was all the coconut oil to kill the chest infection
cooled me down too much
defeated my digestive fires…
but my hands have been cold
and i can feel the wind blowing through the walls
maybe it's the empathy
feeling his cancer, his pain, his alcohol
maybe it's trying to make my organs do the work for him
fear of dying
too little life
so clenching my fist
and stifling myself
how many times have i made this mistake?
it's not at all that i don't love him
in all my anger and snapping
oh, that's just how i am
but i have loved him for years, lives, ages..
whatever "him" means… and Time, that too: whatever it is
he's just one of my loves
a Me, perhaps
a sliver of me
one of my shards
"When There Were Twelve"
(there was always a thirteenth… but he was also the One)
our quiet lives in stone houses
him with his wine making
me with my beers
how many times?
Leaving is good
i quoted something
some lost friend said to me
(and it was clear in the saying that i miss him not only as a friend, but a teacher)
"When you have to say 'Good Bye' start early. say it often… so when the parting time actually comes you are well practiced. it's easy to say… and not hard to hear."
as little as that
think of the future
and look back
and realize what is needed
it's all we can do
feel the warmth flowing through my hands
imagine a drawing, a photograph, a photo-shopping
my body, light making patterns through me
blossoming out, open, up, around
square fucking one.
always back to square fucking one.
but of course
it is the largest square
and the rest fit in it anyway