I place flowers on the grave of you
most every single day
even though I know you live
but half a mile away.

98

I could carry your children
I could carry your debts
I could carry your grief and your pain
I could carry the wind
in a brown paper bag
but I cannot carry my shame.

I could tear down these buildings
and carve out a pond
I could fill in the space with my tears
I could weave you a garden
with the length of my hair
but I can't live without you there.

I could fill you with stories
to make Schezerade weep
I could sing them all down on my knees
I could tie all the stars
in a knot for your wrist
but I cannot make you love me.

98

Exhibit 1 – Bell Jar

I am alone, and I am waiting, the world around me turning,
And I’ve sealed my heart inside me in an apothecary jar.
There is peace inside this stillness, in the endless day’s unwindings,
For even though I know you’re out there I still don’t know who you are.

Exhibit 2 – Wind Chime

The chimes are ringing and you stand there. Your hands are brushing snow off.
The glass inside me is exploding with apocalyptic force.
And you’re smiling and you’re speaking while my knees beneath me shaking
For in the face of my denial I now know it’s you, of course.

Exhibit 3 – Soap

There is fear in this, and loathing, despite the torrid hope that’s building,
And with soap I want to wash this clean and make it whole and pure.
But your eyes have now misread me. You misunderstood the trembling
And we crossed the line unheeding that, for this, there is no cure.

Exhibit 4 – Willow Tree

I am alone, and I am trying to make sense of all this crying,
And to live with your denial while I sit beneath our tree.
For your face keeps reappearing, and the world around me bending,
For as much as I keep leaving something leads you back to me.

Exhibit 5 – Stones

We have talked all night. It’s morning, and I watch you while you’re sleeping,
While the pain of our forgiveness collects inside me like a cairn.
For although we spoke of loving, of compassion and of learning,
Something deep inside us both knows that these empty fields are barren.

Exhibit 6 – Ring

With this ring I to you promise that this hope is not for nothing,
That one day we’ll rise above this and our hearts and souls fly free.
But although we are together, I just cannot see forever
In your eyes, and this is binding me to something that can’t be.

Exhibit 7 – Box

I am alone, and I am empty. The box beside me now is waiting
For the things that once meant us to us, the objects we adored.
We made promises, and broke them, and both love and hate were spoken.
My defense, sir, is this token. I cannot love you anymore.

99

for those whom advent never ends
for those whom sunrise never does
for those who want what never is
I give to you
this wooden box
to fill with blessings for the dead
to fill with blessings for the dead
to fill with thoughts we never said.

for those with shoes they never filled
for those of empty hearts and beds
for those whose lives are lived with shrouds
I give to you
this empty cup
to fill with blessings for the dead
to fill with blessings for the dead
to fill with tears we cannot shed.

for those who weep when faced with love
for those who run from love bestowed
for those who close their eyes to mourn
I give to you
this book, this pen
to fill the longing with hope instead
to fill with thoughts we never said
to fill with tears we never shed
to fill with blessings for the dead.

00

Oh,
we're living here for nothing
at the Rentfree Aphrodite
and they say the place is haunted
but we've no one else to blame;
some people say we're hopeless
but we're living on our nightmares
so sit down but keep your shoes on
and I'll pour a cup of rain.

See, Johnny's got a problem
says the bottle is his mom
so he drinks her down and throws her up
steals another when she's gone
and Lucy there has nightmares
they make her roll around the floor
so she spreads her legs for money
but she's really not a whore
and Doug loves Dave, and Dave loves Barb
and Barb loves everyone
but late at night she sneaks downstairs
and polishes her gun.

Oh,
we're living in a pop song
at the Rentfree Aphrodite
but it ain't Bananarama
and it ain't Duran Duran
"cos there ain't no heat or hydro
so the bands have gone acoustic
it's the fashion in Seattle
so we'll flog it while we can

We got junkies in the basement
we got pushers on the stairs there's a necro in the bathroom
having wet dreams 'cos he cares
for the black-haired vampire siren
who's been sleeping with the skins
they tattooed her ass last Friday
using ink and safety pins
and Kenny's sick and Gord's insane
and Bobby's on another plane
and Chrissy tries to feed them all
but to Dennis it's a game.

Oh,
we're living in this hellhole
called the Rentfree Aphrodite
'cos it's cheap and quick and plastic
and it sells well on the street
we got watches, rings and cd's
we got credit cards and crack
I can sell you back your wallet
hey - just trying to make ends meet.

You can call them trash and garbage
but to me they're family
we've got morals we've got customs
we have our own integrity
and it may not look like much now
but it's more than what we had
when we came here from wherever
and it really ain't so bad
if you don't mind getting cosy
and if you don't care if it's clean
then again, it ain't the Hilton
but that's really not my scene.

Oh,
we're living here for nothing
at the Rentfree Aphrodite
it's a million miles from heaven
but it ain't hell all the time
'cos I’m gonna be a writer
gonna be a big bestseller
gonna buy my own computer
buddy - can you spare a dime?

96

As evening fell
I found myself
to be a two-way mirror
to your eyes,
your deep and well-spring coloured eyes
fathomless
as your questioning words.

It is something that
I chose to be,
this map,
this undiscovered country,
the roads within me
too well trod
by feet that led away.

But you,
you with your compass-heart
who quotes mythology with the damned,
it seems you recognize the language
spoken by my wind-blown veil
it seems to me
my murky depths
to you an uncharted river be
to you a glyph's no mystery
to you i am a geography.

96

I found the feather
you lost
the first
to fall from your cloak
but not
the last;
the first,
like the word
that began it all -
carried it in my fist
as I flew through the streets
my love
my torch of memory.

96

It was an error of geography.
all my tributaries
flow down
like all roads lead
to you
my Rome
my Eldorado
my Atlantis
the merciless slow waters rising
each hour
each day
and in each moment as I stand
anchored, I drown.

Two islands
each within itself
we thought the water enough
to hold us apart
forgetting as the tides rose and fell
around us
that islands do not float.

But not for us
Pompeii
no lightning flash
to stop us in our footsteps
to burn our shadows on the walls.
we live as San Francisco,
our faults
forever lying under our thoughts
each time our fingers pass our skins
waiting for the spark, the fire
we shudder
and in our love
the earth does move.

99

it was a long way to hell,
my shoes split
my feet bleeding
but i've carried this torch
for years
for just
one
kiss.

singing over the dark wires
i mourn the innocence i squandered, carrying bits of myself
in my pocket
my absolution
incomplete,
i would that i could lose
this treasure,
become again
a pauper
with the world
in my hand.

i call you mercury -
winged one,
closed within the box
i carry in my hand -
i would meet with you
in the palace of words,
give to you
no man's bounty
my only hoard
one woman's gift.

stranger, with all these people watching
consummation is the furthest
word from my lips;
scarred with lust
i sully the white bandages of my love
with false intentions.

I would take your face
within my palms
kiss your eyes of love
would it not be taken for weakness.

96

I could never keep my silence of you
my love
too big
too deep
too wild
like tying a tiger
to a pin
staked in my soul
the secret of you
keeps tearing free
pushing itself from my lips
no matter how tightly
I sew them
the stitches breaking
at each possible sighting
of your face.

No romantic I
to carry you to my grave
sleep with you in the silent dirt
the very stones above us
would announce your presence
my love
cry your name to the skies
sing your syllables to the seven winds
whisper you over and over and over
in my ear
like the rushing of the cars
over the wet pavement
wearing grooves in the hard surface
inroads
I cannot barricade.

Good lord,
I have tied myself in knots
for you
of you
each night
I rope myself to my singlebed
to keep myself from flying to you
flying to the streets
to seek your eyes
in the hands of strangers
painting your name in loveblood
on the headposts of their beds
hoping with each little death
for rebirth at your side
waiting
ever waiting
ever single-drop-of-rain-against-the-windowpane-marking-off-the-days-the-years-in-each-sky-tear-waiting
for you
my love...

96