she shifted on a bar stool
legs crossing like a conductor's baton while madmen who called themselves poets
drunk on Bowery corners
lips smacking wine bareknuckling words that were wasted on lost loves
as sounds of her silk nylons reminded me of horny cicadas in Spain last summer..
and why men think of such beautiful deaths

#brokenpoet #TCprose

Night always had a way
of showing you your true self
And it didn't give a crap
whether or not
you were ready for that much truth ..
So tonight you best grab the scotch,son..cause it's a clusterfuck..

#brokenpoet

give them your love
even if they can't return it
trust me
you will make more

#brokenpoet

Come. Let me show you..
What soft rain and " oh god " Sundays are good for..

#brokenpoet

and I want
at the end of my days,
to hold a wrinkled hand
to see brave tears
on a lovely crinkled face..
and know this was love..
This
Was
Love
I want a love that will destroy a Phoenix every fucking time
Just to know it will be reborn

#brokenpoet

Knights rust,my love
whilst carpets of cemeteries lament
and these limbs of dying orchards
pull at skirts of vanishing blues
like curious children often do
And I am here
rolling up this ball of orange fire
slowly dipping my toes
in rivers
twirling clouds
holding back the
rain

#brokenpoet

I know I survived only to be placed in your hands..
and now, my love..
why have you spread your fingers so..

#brokenpoet

even neighbors were coiled like snakes
picking bones
their voices strained with numb
and as I bent to pick up the yellowing Sunday paper the night was suckling Monday's teat
a fucking stray dog looked me in the eyes
and took a shit on my lawn
I saluted him in a silent agreement
and closed the door

#brokenpoet

Another Sunday
Another confession

#brokenpoet

Don't fall in love with..

#brokenpoet

Entrusting the wind.
Can you hear me, darling

#brokenpoet

To live this life is to capture
poetry in crystallized strands
Like webs tangled
around your senses
To take each one
and weave as if on loom
A present
To be opened by another
To be felt
as soft as cashmere
or as prickly as burlap

For if words are not felt
the poet has failed

#brokenpoet #lostconversations

these were futile times
pointless sunsets
and yellowing doorways
needles in alleys
and children with bare feet
it was brutal, man
but when she walked by
swinging in figure eights
it all seemed bearable
for those like me..
It made me believe
I could write again

#brokenpoet #lostconversationswithhim

..fold up the sky..
..we're going home..

#brokenpoet

I felt the weighted pity of birds today

#thinkingcap #brokenpoet

Will you find me among the rain? she asked

Yes

And you'll remember to kiss me like French poems and yesterdays?

Always

#thinkingcap #brokenpoet

Don't leave me for a second,
my dearest, because in that
moment you'll have gone so far
I'll wander hazily over all the earth,
asking, will you come back?

Will you leave me here, dying?"

Pablo Neruda
#myphoto #thinkingcap #brokenpoet

A little thief hides inside me
It's quiet enough most times yet other times we sit in the dark and count sunsets we will miss..

#thinkingcap #brokenpoet

I only aspire to be one thing..

A walking tree..

#brokenpoet #thinkingcap

walking away thinking one would wait as if a rooted tree is absurd
don't these pretty little creatures know how poetry is born..

#brokenpoet #thinkingcap