To Live and Die by an ROI

     To Live and Die by an ROI

I hear and not see,

as I long and

cheer for you, and try,

stunned, to compute,

for you,

this bewildered string of things,

numbers and shapes.

I watch them pass me by,

real, but guised and draped,

in a blurred and patched shy.

They stare at me, hollow,

I think,

but silent remains the broken flute,

when binned blunt,

and too thin.

What is this thing, I ask less of you,

is it our loss, win,

or their stirred, surreal bluff?

When You’re Here

                   When You’re Here

It is just us, my dear,

no sound, far or near,

but your voice,

and no light,

but from your sight,

my only star,

to rejoice and wilt,

to hold onto, in  this

blurred flight,

moments of old and new,

unshared and not,

in this bliss,

this unquiet calm,

stirred by its silent wind,

which you see as true,

and I, see you, as its one,

and only soul and hue.

Life...a la Carte

Life…a la Carte

Moments reincarnated

you would think and hope

anew

no cohort

yet so few

never once fully acted

and always a blink

or two

short.

Thus is life,

I am told,

Are you sold?

Or haven’t you heard,

of a place,

where the old

and the new

together onto a shy sun flew?

With words of strife,

in a silent roar, wry they remain

and untrue.

Did I blur the two,

those moments,

of the mold,

and those that are wholly yours?

You thought

you had lost,

won, or threw?

Moments reincarnated,

in semi-lies and semi-truths,

but always yours to hold.

Light upon less Light

Light upon less Light

As you fade softly from my sight

ascending those lofty stairs

looking back at me in spite

of moments shared and those that were not 

blending present with past

and dreams with a future passed

a beginning with no last

I ask where do you go?

when I am here and you are so

close,  and yet so distantly vast?

Then there was…

Then there was…

Then there was right,

    and there was wrong,

    and there was nothing

    in between.

Then there was this song,

   about this dark light,

   and words…and things

   unseen.

Who’s to say what was,

   and what was not,

   and what will this past bring,

   or brought, in lien.

Don’t you remember?

                             Don’t you remember?

What we swore to keep all

between you and me,

as ours,

like this shore to this sea  

keeps its core, breathless,

till its longest hour.

What we settled to dream

alone, in this stream, mindless

till its farthest flower.

Don’t you remember?

all the words that were not spoken,

and all the sighs that were,

in a blurred moment, stolen.

And all the strange things,

that were stirred and were not.

Don’t you remember?

what was ours,

and what we sought,

breath by breath,

to make them so,

only to be brought

into this buoyed real,

with life and death,

a realm from a void.

How can you not remember?

when all was a lull, 
and untold.