And to hell with the rest
Days fall like sandbags from the rafters.
The unholy hour strikes and resonates throughout
these empty halls that were once so lively and colorful.
No one has found out what was back of the curtain,
but that hasn’t stopped me from trying.
I want to leave this face behind
and see you in another life.
With rare beauty and plentiful chances
I will continue to shy away and become nothing more than what has been.
Grainy black & white images kiss your lips soundlessly
and I see you as no one else can.
In everlasting denial there’s a clock waiting for your return.
It is lit by the sky full of dirigibles warning of an imminent attack.
How can anything have ever existed if we can’t prove we exist now?
Words, yes, just words,
but they are injected with passion,
each letter is lovingly sketched without fear.
I will write you a letter before I die and here is what it will say:
God bless you
and stringed instruments.
God bless the quiet
I felt when with you
and to the devil with everything else.
There’s nothing you can’t do.
I like it when you smell like peppermint.
When the dry southwestern sun
warms you hair,
I run my fingers through it
and it is as if you are radiating
all the desires and adventurousness
that is in your heart.
I was afraid for too long, much too long.
There is a marvelous world and I’m about to die.
God bless you, my dear. God bless you.
– December 11, 2013