I Think I Drink

I think I drink
When I think
Of you
Unlike mine
You speak
A code
At which I find
A poet’s abode
I think I drink
When I think
Of you
Beneath glass
And brass
Boast a ghost
Of my past
I think I drink
The thoughts of you
To try to shrink
Your importance
Another round
Until I lie down


As autumn arrives
To settle its soul
Only short months
Before winter’s troll
I feel the decay
In each falling leaf
It’s taken from summer
The season a thief
I’ll soon don a coat
And wear winter’s grief
Read letters I wrote
While summer was brief
I’ll pine for the sun
And cry in the snow
Until winter is done
The season a foe
These cycles are spun
We shed as we grow
It can’t be undone
Each season a show


My masochist 
Eyes studying 
The pics of you
Your old girl
Now the new
Not girls like me
They’ve had high tea
On another Sea
They did not sprout
Or bloom in doubt
From the dirt 
Of a farmer’s root
They’ve studied 
With dignity
Three piece suit
While my pen
Wrote clumsily 
They seem
Taller than me
They seem
Happy in the pose
A lover’s theme
In designer’s clothes
I was so
I seemed to
Disappoint you in 
The others did not
Speak with a poet’s
They are all
Images of me
Next to you


If pain can be measured
How would it be?
It’s value unknown
Pain is a secret
Spoken only by a soul
Sleeping in sickness
Not one shall pass
From this life and beyond 
Without its embrace
There are clinics and pills
Remedies and therapies
The frowned faces
Pouring in their doors
And lotions and shamans
Pain is invisible 
Like prayers
For folded hands
Much work to do
Pain is never unemployed


We’ve expired 
With smeared ink
A reminder
To make me think
Our life finite 
In a wink

Lifting tea
Pen in hand
A writer’s pose
You expressed
Dislike of prose
Dislike at best

Halting words 
From fine print
Spun inside
My eyes squint
Left unsigned
The paper rot
An intertwined
Twisted plot

I wanted to retract
I wanted to hide
The deed lay stacked
Like groom and bride 

Bleeding on a page
You dislike prose
A treasure cage
From which my hand flows

Word mined  jewels
To hasten your feet
Twin swollen soles
Took to the street

My spools strayed
You descended steps
A heart retrograde 
Where our words wept 

Revels of dismay
An abacus clone
Counting the days
Of numbers unknown

It’s what you now chose
Leaving me alone
With your dislike
Of my pretty prose