regret – poems 2 die for

LEO B (for B.C.)

I can’t be sure,
but I believe that this
poem might not
have been
what you had in mind

when you asked me way
back then “to come
and look
after you”

whilst he who relayed
the request
would be a month
away amongst
the ladies of Spain

I’m not sure if a poem, this poem,
is what you would
have wanted at all

but sensing innuendo
I felt I just
had to decline your
gracious offer
face your lioness wrath
when I told you this
short and sweet
over the phone

short
and sweet

sweet
and short

since I did no comfort
caring back then
I have no idea
what
you think

how
you read this

what shared, interlocked, idea we have
of a poem

and how it is written, delivered
and read

how both parties in
the creation together
forge its
meaning

of what is here
a poem
might have been
a novel

gorgeous entwined narrative
we lived to regret
then revelled in.
View

ROOM

stet
Heraclitus you are wrong
this man
cannot step
into that bed
river mibd a river

back up a bit
let’s forget media res
simply
start at
the beginning

virtual particles abounding
no hope of
even one
actually actualizing

promise of this moment
never to be realized
come and gone

so many wave fronts
from bed to couch and
back again
washing over me

you
by now
sleeping serenely
me maybe
astral travelling
as far as I can tell

room to
expand, manoeuvre

room
for doubt

here we
make love, don’t
make love

roll two lovely snake eyes
so you may guess
which
forked path

possibilities, probablities,
green light
for go, red
for full stop

in this little ecosystem, tiny
echochamber things
horribly resonant

yes
roll those bones
roll
with
the flow

tick the will
they won’t they
take what’s
in the box

you know
whose doomed cat
is waiting
in that box

the whole nature of
connection, entanglement

now
premised on our moment

and what other, kinder worlds
have decided for themselves
have themselves
found out

let them
film the morning after
still through a lens
of blessed
enchantment

Pan panning with magical
camera across
the mystical space
that will
always
be
her bedroom

for the record (record of
flautist playing
the firsf
time I ever saw
her face)

nothing
to see here