THE APARTMENT

 

 

Dateline: 20 January 1969. With humble apologies to John Keats.

-- From having dreamed so long
With every song and love-scene ever played,
The couple locked themselves in and lay down,
Left the lights on, and stayed
(Locked in themselves)
While the TV went out of tone
(The shadows there
Squawked, more like parrots than before)
And then went out,
Not leaving even a cathode star.

And the newspapers piled up against the door,
And the cleaning woman rattled her keys and called,
And the manager came and went,
And detectives dusted the walls and the floor
Without finding a print
Of foul play or fair:  Except for where
A bouquet of red roses stained the air
Like a 3-D greeting card,
Nothing was there.

These two had gone beyond
Reality, desire, illusion.
A dream had ended; a journey had begun.

 

 

 

 

 

First Posted                12/24/2008

SEPTEMBER SNOW

 

 

I noticed it was snowing, dirty snow,
big, fat flakes drifting slowly down.
I was not surprised, although it wasn’t cold—
such strange things have been known 
to happen.  Now I was dreaming, 
I was dancing in the snow, head thrown 
back, arms out, hands open 
to catch the flakes that floated down,
warm and soft on my fingers
like soft, greasy ashes.  And now 
we were running and screaming. . . .

 

 

blog.holidaycars .com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Nw-York-City-Snow-Storm.jpg

THE HAUNTING

If there were such a thing as bi-location,

Your house would be haunted—

A presence would follow you from room to room. 

 

You would have the sensation

That some one was constantly beside you,

Especially at night, in your bed.

 

You would think twice about looking in the mirror,

Because every time you did,

You would see a face looking over your shoulder

At you... at your face, your body... your ways...

The thought of you makes me shiver;

You have taken control of my head.

I have not spent such sleepless nights

Since I was a teenager; never has my bed

Been so empty, nor my heart so full.

 

Never have I been so driven to masturbation.

I keep having endless imaginary conversations

With you, about you.

This began as a poem about you; it has become

Incoherent through my loss of concentration.

I don’t know what I am going to do.  

 

 

 

 

http ://http://www.123rf .com/photo_3648678_young-sophisticated-man-looking-into-a-mirror.html 

 

http://garthsworld2.blogspot .com/2014/01/snow-stay-home-and-stay-in-bed.html?zx=2a5f0687a8de691b

 

http ://eros-porn.tumblr .com/image/136745265059

 

First posted 9 December 2008