Me and Everything is Color

I

It’s night now
—mist’s
a grey blue voice, speaking
there—
My life is its own condition.

Nonetheless,
come by when I’m gone.
I’m here
, I’m singing still
to the sink,

dear. Hard to believe
each night new
I loved you
—body, inside,

out—for me and I DON’T WANNA.
I shouldn’t do more than that.

II

Leave my heart
in a bucket
on the ground.

Head’s a waterfall
—purple lights illuminating
a possibility—

III

I wanted to start
again from some time-stream
still in mind. There’s a possible heaven
in this place.

I’m going to find
a big-assed fresh sea breeze—
waiting for night
and what it means.

IV

Where I’m going
has a home, of things,
and you. I love you, still, to be something
to love.

You’ll love me,
love, enough to
when you can think
it halfway through.

I’d choose you each time.

V

I need some voice,
her voice, to be happy
hear her voice

to be human unchanged
in memory, light
as air—open and warm.

VI

All quiet here
day after day
,
thin faint clouds dance

to find can’t make love. Who am I
—one, the smallest of that feeling
wanting a meaning
.

There are words I want
still in cement,
thoughtful. I’m sitting, writing

this simple one—the wavering places.
Come with me,
this morning again.

VII

Still some quiet.
Give me something
to look at.

I was something. I could touch
all your love
day’s first light

open to me
big endless spaces.

I don’t care. I trust you
day after day
with curtains drawn.

VIII

Who the hell echoes
the sun, round, soft
sounds going round
myself in lateral tiers—love,
in red, it’s all forgotten—

IX

Blue summer’s come
unsteady when drunk
with wondrous voices—thin
delights to bring you
the small spaces in the sun

eloquent, my heart
my funny valentine

coming home again.

X

KISS ME. Kiss me hard
with the past

all goddamn day
there, now here—

XI

Today without sun. You’re only
all there is. Here I am song,
a thing and I was something
by which light shined for
whatever there was.

(experiment with a book of poems by Robert Creeley. August 28-29, 2012. Ann Arbor and Waterford, MI.)

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Filed under Eastern Michigan University, Erasure, Experiment, Michigan, Michigan Writer, Poems, Poetry, Prose, Reading, Revisitations, Sonnets, Summer, The Temporal Arts Collective, Writing

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