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I have English in my heart.
I know how that sounds for a frenchman. Like betrayal, maybe, until I hear what English kept from going quiet. English got the poems, the long thoughts, the little jokes I used as splints.
French is not in my heart.
It’s dans mon corps.
I hear through our tears
a litany of twisted betrayal,
your smooth wet cheek
flushed pink—salt tears
on crumpled cotton sheets.
Candle lit shadows three
A requiem vigil for two.
There's a flutter in me made of butterfly wings-
It hums when the stars lean close.
I sip moonlight from chipped teacups,
Trade secrets with unicorns who forget they're not gods.
Every time I walk barefoot through clover,
Mother Earth remembers my name.
They say I was born from an exploding nova
That formed ice draped in pink and lavender skies and lullabies.
They say I was born from a comet's prayer,
Draped in teal skies and lullabies,
"Dutch Revisions"
They called it Dutch courage,
as if a heart needed a bottle
before it could face the storm.
Yet I've seen courage sober—
steady as a dike at midnight,
holding back a sea no one else noticed.
They called it Dutch comfort,
meaning consolation thin as paper.
But comfort can be practical:
a lamp left burning in the window,
a chair pulled closer without a word.
Sitting in my chair, my heart begins to race as my vision distorts and the room slowly melts away.
Am I awake and dreaming or dead And remembering?am I still here? Should I reach out? Can anybody hear me?
Holding on to what I thought was real. As the pieces crumble before me.
Suffocating , fear like the vacuum of outer darkness , feeding on my consciousness as the void envelops and swallows me whole.
I focus on the clock as the gears of time. Twist and turn before me like a living soul.
I glance at you with a minute of stare.
Walking by you everywhere.
We stop with a steady stand.
You held my hand with no demand.
We chatted in a voice with sensational words.
Hummingbirds heard standing on the curb.
People walked behind us slowly lingering.
It sound like our conversation was giggling.
When we open our hearts with friendly thoughts.
Our souls was taught to be loved or not.
Yes I care about meeting you here.
I'm very aware that we could compare.
You make me smile
I glance at you with a minute of stare.
Walking by you everywhere.
We stop with a steady stand.
You held my hand with no demand.
We chatted in a voice with sensational words.
Hummingbirds heard standing on the curb.
People walked behind us slowly lingering.
It sound like our conversation was giggling.
When we open our hearts with friendly thoughts.
Our souls was taught to be loved or not.
Yes I care about meeting you here.
I'm very aware that we could compare.
You make me smile
electronically looted, pilferred,
sabotaged, et cetera...yet again
for the umteenth time
courtesy banker or employee
of Capital One the culprit
finding me strategizing in my den
of thieving magpies chiefly Rossini
actually our's (the missus and me),
primped and prodded himself
when out stage door left
here comes the rooster
who doth doodle
with his cocksure attitude
while when in her siesta the hen
If heart could reach, with sinews tender,
To wrap around, and hold on tight.
In awesomeness of beating splendour,
To save us from the trap of night.
If heart could think as well as feel,
Would it help or would it hinder?
As charcoal days have come to steal,
Lighting the fire, and fuelling the tinder.
If heart could see the aching fears of man,
To move in courage beyond comfort's dreams.
Its eyes could send a search light scan,
To pull away from darkness schemes.
There is a nostalgia in her eyes
Like the memory of a million heartbeats echoing through time
A story untold through a near glassy glacial glance
Cold and warm all at once
Reaching out in the night
In the vast expanse there is a sigh
It’s as if there is a secret from the universe wanting to escape
You can almost imagine it as it treks along
Leaving a trail of soft and slow breaths
Leaving stargazers in awe
It becomes kind of like a recollection
Of lovers