Epigraph

The people who you want to change your life don’t come to you by overhearing what's playing on your earphones in an elevator. They are more likely to come to you as they are getting into a car and inevitably drive off as you stare from a window. If through the luck of circumstance they are summoned back, you wrack your brain for the right words, the right action to place yourself firmly in their path with the full-hearted wish that it be enough.

      A glass of milk? Collage. Ferdinand Andrew                                 

Funeral

Only I, me

not you

and words

alone

behind the door, he feels me up

then lets us go

Only me, not her

No

But I felt bad for her mom

and cried at her funeral

Now she's just a yardstick

in a senseless dream

but that was real

the girl in the back seat

who I won't appease

she annoys me

Only me, not her

No

Car wrecked, invisible

mother screaming

under the weight

in an empty landscape

Eulogy

All the good songs wait to be reborn,

while the stars wait in the wings of derailment.

Eulogy, a songbird, a picture in hell.

A trip around the world alone.

May all your dissolution turn to gold.

Your feigned heart, your laughter.

Follow the marigold.

Into the shadows, lie down in their roots

with the soil and the sun in your hair.

Follow the marigold, right till the end

Your feigned heart your laughter

follow the marigold, all the way home.

Morning view of Flanders

The white gold of light flooded and spread

on a stone swallowing river,

the morning lifts its head from a shadowy pillow.

Quickening shadows on greens and reds.

Veiled horses grazing in yards,

cyclists smelling the marsh on cycling paths.

Flanders towers stand tall

looking down on the people.

Days all set in cobblestones.

A ghost

A ghost, a boat, Italy.

The quickening heart,

the horse tripping over the runaway cart.

The gallery is empty, he comes to me.

I want to last forever.

The house is empty.

Ivy in the flower bed.