a man walked across the Harris St. bridge,
paused at mid-span to toss some refuse
into the river below
and that is how I saw him
as I stood idly on the opposite end
noting the time of day
half past or maybe later
not yet close enough to hear his shoes
heels hit first
or make out the color of his tie
something dark though not navy
in a better light I might have seen his eyes
instead of some shadows under his brow
when he was near enough to call to him
I had already turned away
and was still staring out across the river
when he walked by
and never did recall even later under oath
if he had been wearing aftershave.

Albion!
Arise, O Albion!
From your death-limned stupor,
From the sullen grape-stained grasp
of your dowager Queen,
From the long bright scar of Boadicia's shame,
From the barren cellars of your tin tower,
From the barrow-weight of Norman bones,
From the shattered dusk of your unkept lands,
From misrule and Europa's blackened limbs,
From the lassitude of lesser men,
From the petty evils in empire's wake,
From the crippling solace of your island cell,
Arise!
To find again the world aflame,
To destroy the rot in Nature's shrine,
Take up again your Daughter's sword,
Set your ships alight aimed into the rising sun,
Stand fast to the honor of your fair land,
Not yet lost in your wandering,
That once more you may stride the hinterlands,
Sounding Herla's Horn,
Clear shall ring the bell that stands upon your shore,
Calling out even still,
Arise!

I have memories of my memories,
pale and paler wights receding into darkness
beneath which nothing moves.
it is so long ago that I lived
in those bright moments
now abandoned
papery husks that whisper in the wind
then are still.
and yet beneath the deep is leviathan
all that once was,
unseen and unfelt
buried in a vastness
that erases itself
leaving me in a dim and fading present
that I refuse to remember.

I have sullen owls for pets,
or not, as they prefer.
the susurrus of heavy wings
beat around me in the darkness
not quite contempt, or indifferent neglect.
instead the resigned neediness
of the unwillingly kept.

A Cautionary Tale

as she bent down to pick him up,
she felt the
pop
like pomegranate seeds falling on linen,
a thousand small blooms opened up
and sent her jumbling in shudders
splashing bright rosy garlands
next to his shocked silent frame

later, in the hospital
she couldn't make out the meter
of the hisses and drips
not quite random,
not quite

"words fail" quailing
leapt across the
space between us
like the gap between
her teeth with
even spacing between
too neat ellipses.

He practices casual larceny off 6th Avenue, summers only
with a mercenary regard for the letter of the law, in spirit if not in fact.
Unmade and unmanned just down the block, set off with simple expectations
and low regard for extinct convictions,
he busied himself biding time
in heat-stroked cars, and up against baked brick walls.
The remainder of his days ill used and poorly contested,
a kind of hazy yoke
on sapling shoulders unable to bend.

boy, I sure am enjoying the new Editors songs I've heard. 
one of the perks of living in Lesleyland is that I get to meet a lot of interesting people, such as this chap Tyler that works at the upstairs women's section at Blackbird in Ballard.  he is a trick bike rider, and will be in a film screening at the Central Cinema 11/15.  he's also in the fashion design program at the Art Institute.  Lesley has some strange ability to draw random conversations out of complete strangers.  not just in the usual shooting the breeze, how's the weather kind of way either.  it makes wandering around with her a lot more interesting than just hanging out alone.
and tonight we're heading out to Josephine in Ballard for halloween, me as a beatnik, and her as a spot on metal chick, Motley Crue t-shirt with fringe sleeves, spandex and all.

little pieces are easily lost
like teeth chipped on handlebars
and slivers of asphalt washing out
of hands and knees.

would you love me even still
if I promised to kill you in your sleep tonight
why is murder such a thrill
and something forbidden even if I do it right
after all, what more could separate us
when all the time we spend together
can't ever save us.
so dry your tears,
you're going to need them for the funeral my dear
you'll be the special guest,
the one who brings us all together in the end.
and we'll all wish things had turned out differently
such an unhappy way to end the century
and now what's left for us to do
but to say goodnight
so close your eyes, sweet dreams, farewell
and please don't fight.
just slip away and let go of everything
while I hold you tight
and dry your tears,
you're going to need them for the funeral my dear
you are the very special guest,
the one who brought us all together in the end.