Living On | hyperlinked poem series | #1

Let’s keep living on advices we love. Wrap ourselves

In nothing cloths on summer evenings and lie about.

 

Let’s stay put

with grace. Or go on and on without punctuation

We’ll do the whole damn ceremony without it.

And forget prayer.

 

Let’s renew vows in a garbage dump—or fake a break up

Over the airport P.A. while they all break the other hearts

Delaying flights. Let’s cover ourselves head to toe

In honey, stick on the bandages bought that morning at market. Call up

Love’s captain to drop us off on a strange pier. Linger for a while.

Go back home where we’ve stitched dreams to streams

Of advice in letters across the floor.

 

And let’s throw in some bad apples too.

Disasters are the parades that remind me why I love you.

And have we already forgotten the too-drunken toasts to what we caught

And what we killed. And what we had but could not hold.

 

See I had all these plans and no gun to trigger the start. I had all this

Money and no tools to bury it.

All these seeds and

No pots to corrupt

That spectacular emergence.

Collars, but had no dogs. Chains, no commands.

Pride, but no patience.

 

I promised you the glories of life and came up short on what to do about it just

Yesterday.

 

So today I listen to advices, mostly from fabled folks

And they say to let love spoil as fast as possible—use it up,

Stomp on its throat,

Move on.

 

Well, I don’t know if I can do that. I’ve always preferred

the lovesongs you used up on me

To tragedy’s flirtation.

 

And even then I’m fresh out of my own ideas anyway.

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