getting back to that girl

collecting recipes 

I want to eat 

with my eyes

with rumbling intent 

vibrant and wild 

in technicolor, sepia

and cream, deep reds

of wine reduced 

there was a girl once

curious I have to get back to

she’s not there

too late, waining wet winter

cold got into my bones 

infection got into my lungs

though the latter was not you

the former surely was

and time the only cure

found it there, dusty

found Time 

on the floor 

at the back of a packed closet 

hiding in the dark 

it was there all along 

just where I dreamt it

dragging out the heavy life

two bulky jobs and  

material trappings;

I found it there, dusty 

amidst other things I had set aside 

things to do and see

it was there in the wayback 

behind Survive

in a small lockbox labeled 

Overmorrow

shut the front door

feelings like thoughts 

exist spatially

in a clouded ether 

a bubble hovering 

in the sky past my reach

exactly where I put them 

Birdie Bonita

if I am quiet

cold distant 

on the runnings

of the world 

no care voiced

I don’t feel?

I feel too much!

too long I gave 

my days my nights 

my life; hours

of sleep to others

in the dying light 

let me live

simply existing 

amidst joy,

four paws and wet kisses 

for a moment there I thought I saw something

dry sky-blue cold turns

into wet but warmer 

and everything is damp 

maybe I HAVE lived

tightly on the edge of

a mild depression; 

give me the sun and

heat to sear white

hot flesh to bronze

I will give you 

a cold heart melting