Come Beloved
as a strong wind
blow
through my life
seperate
the wheat from the chaff
Help me
to love them both

the good
the bad
the everything
for it has brought me
Here
brought me
back
to You

Aid me
in letting go
of all this
stuff
these things
these strings
and attachments

So there might be room
for nothing else
but Love
among these boxes

Hey, Blackbird! Do you finally get the gist?
Are you ready to cut your wrist?
Or do you still think you're in control?

I'm sorry. But, it's too late to say you're missed.
Remember when we finally kissed?
Oh! How we thought we'd made the roll!

Let's face it. You'll forever be on my list.
I did enjoy our little tryst...
...."to continue" is what I wished, and missed.

A crooked smile upon my face,
I hear the water running.
You said the bathtub was dirty,
with Comet in your hand,
you scrubbed and scoured,
you plunged the drain.

Earlier I had asked you if you
wanted to hear my poetry,
but you said you weren't awake
enough yet.

Funny how these things happen
to poets,
to lovers,
and life
that leaves page after page
of discretion.

Once upon a time, I would have
loved the bathtub clean.
You can't have every thing it seems.

Dry droll the roll
the dreams are fallen off
the bed

and its time to wake the moll
slip her into pin stripe slacks
and get her moving
back on track

the shoes need shinning
waiting where they lay
tipped against the trimwork
of the hall

she runs a work of preparation
and we ration the goodwill
down the steps and at
the lights we part
behind the dark glasses
that hide our bleary sanity

God shall protect us
for he looks after all
drunks and fools