#love #poetry #poem
What is love
but the word
a cover up thought,
Love is dependence
coupled with hate,
Because I need you.
and babies need mothers,
and God needs believers.
If we could live
comfortably alone forever,
we would, I have no doubt.
That ever present
grinding of stomach and mind
is why we latch on
to each other
—but hate it all the time.
I know nothing
of human satisfaction.
No lasting love or selfless giving.
I know only the demands of life.
Life needs to eat, to breathe, to feel important.
Life needs illusions
to prevent us from swallowing arsenic.
Life needs nightmares to fear death
—as if emotions could exist
after our brains lose function,
as if anything could harm us then.
Life creates superstition—ideas of God, souls.
Life is extinguishable
Life is not belief but denial.
Life needs love—its most beautiful charlatan.
Love is a drug
wholly legal and ever-abused.
Love is hypnosis.
Love is a lie—she’d believe forever.
I must divorce it.
I must curtail
these idle hopes of continuing on.
I must embrace the sole freedom we have,
The freedom to choose death.
All other decisions are limited
to a small sequence
of illustrated story books
stemming from the random assignment
we were given at birth.
He’s white, she’s rich, you’re gay
—death is our one commonality,
Our sole link.
We can choose death.
We can admit
to the futility of this puppet show.
We can invite
or peace that may come.
to come now,
not in many years,
to come now.
This world will not do for me.
This world will not do for you.
We will leave it.
Make me a seashell
curved and sharp,
proportioned to fit
the nooks of coral
to catch algae.
I lock myself inside.
Sometimes there needs
to be a callused door
Washed up on shore
for a weekend,
buried beneath piles of
none that precede
“love the way
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,
Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,
A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea
Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries
Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes
Ebon in the hedges, fat
With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.
I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.
They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides.
Overhead go the choughs in black, cacophonous flocks —-
Bits of burnt paper wheeling in a blown sky.
Theirs is the only voice, protesting, protesting.
I do not think the sea will appear at all.
The high, green meadows are glowing, as if lit from within.
I come to one bush of berries so ripe it is a bush of flies,
Hanging their bluegreen bellies and their wing panes in a Chinese screen.
The honey-feast of the berries has stunned them; they believe in heaven.
One more hook, and the berries and bushes end.
The only thing to come now is the sea.
From between two hills a sudden wind funnels at me,
Slapping its phantom laundry in my face.
These hills are too green and sweet to have tasted salt.
I follow the sheep path between them. A last hook brings me
To the hills’ northern face, and the face is orange rock
That looks out on nothing, nothing but a great space
Of white and pewter lights, and a din like silversmiths
Beating and beating at an intractable metal.
But baby don’t you know
That I really gotta go?
We’re just two fading lights.
Yes we’re mirrors to the blue.
What happened to you?
Didn’t mean to make you cry.
Didn’t mean to lose my way.
For sure I’m gonna die
If I lay with you and stay.
So before the armies come
And take away our lives,
Just whisper sweet nothings
Say anything, just not goodbye.
I’m a trying, I’m a sweating,
I’m a sinking, I’m a getting…
Babe, how come you’re blue?
Instead of daring me to shoot,
Ya shoulda moved across the sea.
Darling bring your bathing suit.
I’ve sunken into me.