the aftermath ..

words as conventionally detrimental as these
ought to have moved you, as I set them down
the irony of their falseness do not touch me

I saw, I felt, plain virtues in a man, whose
miniature vices could no longer harm, you are
a daylight ravager, the robber of predictabilities

I remember our brief togetherness, undead child;
a nameless experience, amongst largeness usually
a void, an odor, dark and languid, the scent of

a passionate body, most of all, I reminisce over
your lies, which took aim, had no point, theatrical,
enacted on tiny stage, for a tiddly audience; you & I

living with you was never safe, I sat enclosed
in a mist of uncertainty, or else recoiled from
theories of conjugal bliss, which were like shrine,

smoldering with phantasmagoria, an alien faith,
its liturgy and rites abhorrent, incorrigible perversity,
whatever was declared to be truth; a shameful fakery

And now I know ..I am only bored ..

pS -

I really am bored with the way I write.

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palimpsest

for me there is
no lust of allegiance,
the frenzy of pursuit,
or dust of defeat
in my reverie, I see you,
in Shangri-La, far away
dusk lay on it, solemn coast
gold lined; freckled with
tints of enchantment --

you and I rapt in oblivion
an embrace of racking struggle
vanishing into unknown
your face gleamed over
woods congregated, heights serrated
liquid harmonies dripping from lips
their piercing sweetness
the juice of divine vintage

and I see around --
the grotesque wraith of love,
the most pretentious of all pretensions
the silliness and malice
the pathos and pettiness
sex and disgust, cobweb and gossamer;
and one thing about you
constant and dependable --
your selfishness.

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