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my days are songs

my days are songs
all the sad love songs
that have played in hearts
since the days of The Beatles
and Bukowski listening
to his radio while his typewriter made
notes of his different heart

find me
in winter

among the blankets
of my notes

beneath the shelter of your eyes
hon

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filling my head
full of
love songs
I can sing them
to myself
I can love you
like that

the day

the day
like a sad
love song

watching birds

watching birds
fly away
the sky will
soon be empty
I make a poem
without love
and wonder
what becomes
of an orphaned
poem like that?

winter cold

winter cold
no jumper
of her heart
the stars
make their distance
have turned their backs
to the lament
of my eyes

write some words

write some words
sign them
with a
graffiti
of flowers
perhaps she will
put a watering-can
beside them?

the longest journey

the longest journey
is to survive

poem
to poem

shoot
the vocabulary

into veins
in my arm

to find
your heart

again

look at stars

look at stars
if not to

think of her
then who

to make
the stars

a journey?

you still make

you still make
couplets

in me
hon

my wilderness
is lovely

when I
do that

I gonna play
some Shawn

Colvin now

RAdiO sHaWN coLvIN

Shawn Colvin | Tougher Than The Rest

and the seasons that

and the seasons that
have left me
are winters

I had survived
in her
poetry

who took my love
for a little while
gave a sweet
sanctuary

wait with day

wait with day
in the dark

for morning
to exist

night allows
rune-craft

I scribe poems
onto my skin

when I make
thoughts of her

too early

too early
to bed

because I could
not find her

wake too soon

Frankenstein running
to the cliff’s edge