Fangirlin' It

dark leather stained warm cherry

smoothly embossed knotwork surrounding thin twists and wisps of dragon

slipknot cord uniting the covers tying together disparate words

inside laid out in coloured ink flowing

liquidly from fine tips onto

clean cottony pages held in

with careful red stitches can my thoughts live up to this is it too pretentious for the everyday the only words I can squeeze out any more

it deserves elegant lines to match its own

should record well-turned phrases that look

good on unlined white and subtly proclaim the

creativity and intelligence and skill of the writer

Morning View

A cloud of perfect corkscrew spirals

Spill down over creamy white, dark and heavy with lingering moisture but

Lacking the warmth of before.

Each strand twists in on itself, drawing

Itself up proudly into

Tighter spirals as the damp evacuates.

Long coils cling to each other

With desperation not unbecoming

Two drowning lovers.

I have never been able to leave when it 
matters--
   --not you; not you, and never this place.

I stood dying in place my whole life, 
stood behind you for all these years
   I stood behind the scarred counter in that smoky bar
   catching tips and lustful glances
   I stood behind the weathered grey drying line full of your 
   undershirts and my dust rags
and then when I sprinted after you,
all the while thinking I was leading in this race of 
circular logic,
I learned that our years contained only me,
and that you
have always stood outside them, outside us.

So now here you are, falling
away from me again:
I falter, stand staring at your finely-
chiseled name,
And I want to ask you for the years
back, but I don't know how.