I am a liar

I would look silly if I acted
how I felt most of the time

so I maintain a professional
demeanor whilst my
heart rejoices!

this sharade of
sobriety, staidness
is a necessary lie
I know

no more so
than the glory of
your beauty, our spirits
sitting here in these
wonderful vessels

working hard and
returning to more of this mascarade:
homes as houses
pure eternal love as family.

You should know
that is why I say it now

I am a liar most of the time;
I love you so much more
than I dare to show.

Love Economics

When I contemplate the economics of our

relationship, I can see that you are winning,

in control, because I invest

and invest without the return I expect.

I calculate further and see that

my expectations are not based

on anything solid.

So, then I doubt myself and 

later find myself addicted to my wisdom

because I know that I know what is

going on but I just don't do anything about it.

It is my excuse for being a pussy

not following my gut instinct

thinking that thinking is the way 

to figure this problem out.

But it isn't you.  You aren't the problem.

You are perfect, I have seen it and 

and still want it but the truth is that

I would rather not contemplate

the economics of my relationships

unless I am at work or bargaining at a tent

over some already low priced

artifact of what will be a priceless memory.

I am thinking too much.  I am being a hunting

adult and calculating, as I should,

the prospect of being in a room

of a house about to go to sleep.

Turning off the light, putting myself in the bed

and saying "I love you" and 
meaning it with all my heart.

The Square

The love age is light years
the sounds the stars
every wave we are riding
and so on.

I didn't hear him correctly
and thought too much
about what I'd thought I'd heard
and six years later I was crawling
out of the womb of depression
with an ache in some unidentifiable place
and a head full of useless
wisdom that only made one sadder.

Well, there is more than what I see
that is for sure.  I see
and even am what I feel, sometimes.
Sometimes you are out to get me.
Sometimes I am a creature.
I look at my hands and feet
and they look weird.  I listen to
the people in the square talk
and watch them walk and then
I notice the sky and imagine
that beyond the day-blue there is
unimaginable dark nothingness
that goes on forever
and I'm like, Jesus.
We're pretty funny.

Kiss

I'll eat it all.
The green shade of black
that lives in the forest,
the airplanes, trucks,
and grass upon which
very sacred cows dance
as they are liberated
into my mouth.

The pavement is so ordinary
and especially beautiful.
I could say that it is dressed
in sunshine and shadows
and if it were to lay there nude
I may not bother to look at all.

I have lovely theories
to explain all of these things
but I can't put a single one of them
into adequate words.
The whole universe crumbles
in my mouth and infinity
reaches so far into the back
of your head that you seem
a carnal projection of
something that should be
and always was
in a place where everything is,
or something like that.

Your eyes are like these
secrets you wear
on your face.

Let me kiss you, again.