a poem.

I have sat by the Buddha’s trees

And waited for the depths of night

In the engine room of reality

To come and save my soul.

Shall we go then, shall we go then

I do say

To attempt and sway

You to come along with me. 

On the streets and in the alleys

I have waited for your shadow

Been crushed by the weight of silence

with the fleeting echos turn. 

Along the seine, along the seine

i walk and wander, wine in hand

speaking of my fantasies

my artist heart to beat again. 

But you are coy--oh how you are coy! 

You tease and tempt with all your might

and i am left with none but air

and broken glass and fickle clocks. 

in the nooks and through the crannies

i hunt for you, ephemeral

but labrythine you ever taunt me

creep and crawl up through my spine. 

shall we go then, shall we go then

i do say

to attempt and sway

you to come along with me. 

i sing of love and a girl at war

on the picnic blankets of the shore

in dentist's chairs and libraries

in the musky scent of old book stacks

on the steps of the bridges 

under the rain of hallowed months

with bending, breaking umbrella backs. 

up the mountain, in the plane

over to the sea again

i flit and flicker through my days

searching for the endless ways

to stitch and sew you to my brain. 

but i am but a clockwork orange

ticking ticking ticking still

oscillating between high and low

between the segments of split personalities

do i stay or do i go? 

shall we go then, shall we go then

i do say.