Haiku

I had summer once-
hot sultry days, cool smokey
nights. Then you left me.

To the girl in the back corner

Circa 1994

I will not come back there and talk to you, no matter how much I may want to,
for you see, no one ever came back to talk to me.

Funny how time travel works that way.

What would I say to the one who sits as though a night watchman of the pencil sharpener? Cliches, empty promises ringing of hope?

Perhaps concrete directions would be better. A pocket travel guide to the future with dates, times, and moments all mapped out. It would be very handy I am sure.

But as I look around myself, at what surrounds me, sustains me, provides a buoyant sense of self it hits me: any help I give to you, poor isolated soul, risks erasing what encapsulates me.

This risk I cannot take.

So I must leave you to yourself, to be lost and found and lost yet again and again. To break and bend, to toughen and scar

I turn my gaze away from your sad, isolated figure. I can be no more help to you know than I could of been then and for that I am sorry. But as I look at where I stand and what surrounds me now, I realize there is only one thing I can tell you, you won't believe me I know, because I wouldn''t have believed then either, but it is the truth that in the end, it will work out.

As is, currently untitled

The edges are fraying.
Bit by bit single threads separate
from the smooth silver weave
moving towards the border
lost, alone
a lamb from the flock
a voice from the crowd
Soon I will be nothing.

The Toyko Muse

This is merely a note to say that it appears that any writing muse that is connected with me seems to be on Tokyo time.

Why is it that when one is trying to fall asleep that all the good ideas start coming? That, or when you're in the bathroom.