You're so cold,

(keep your hand in mine)                                              (but you feel alive)

Lay your hand on me one last time...

So Cold

Show me how it ends ( it's  a l l  r i g h t )
Show me how defenseless you really are

satisfied&empty inside
(well that's all right,
let's give this another try--)

"That's What You Get"

—because i burned every bridge i ever built while you were here.

(why do we like to hurt so much?)

i can't hear you-- you sound like static

It sounds like a
radio with the speakers blown,
the kind of sound that you'll never know
(treble high and the bass down low)

& it's

all downhill from here

It's still National Poetry Month...

Sooner or later that which is now life shall be poetry,

and every fair and manly trait shall add a richer strain to the song.

Final stanza

Our desires shall be from repressions free—
    As it's only right to treat them.
To your ego's whims I will sing sweet hymns,
    And ad libido repeat them.
With your hand in mine, idly we'll recline
    Amid bowers of neuroses,
While the sun seeks rest in the great red west
    We will sit and match psychoses.
So come dwell a while on that distant isle
    In the brilliant tropic weather;
Where a Freud in need is a Freud indeed,
    We'll always be Jung together.

more of The Passionate Freudian

While the pale moon gleams, we will dream sweet dreams,
    And I'll win your admiration,
For it's only fair to admit I'm there
    With a mean interpretation.
In the sunrise glow we will whisper low
    Of the scenes our dreams have painted,
And when you're advised what they symbolized
    We'll begin to feel acquainted.
So we'll gaily float in a slumber boat
    Where subconscious waves dash wildly;
In the stars' soft light, we will say good-night—
    And "good-night!" will put it mildly. 

Excerpt from "The Passionate Freudian to His Love"

Only name the day, and we'll fly away
    In the face of old traditions,
To a sheltered spot, by the world forgot,
    Where we'll park our inhibitions.
Come and gaze in eyes where the lovelight lies
    As it psychoanalyzes,
And when once you glean what your fantasies mean
    Life will hold no more surprises.
When you've told your love what you're thinking of
    Things will be much more informal;
Through a sunlit land we'll go hand-in-hand,
    Drifting gently back to normal.

The Love-Hat Relationship

I have been thinking about the love-hat relationship.
It is the relationship based on love of one another's hats.
The problem with the love-hat relationship is that it is superficial.
You don't necessarily even know the other person.
Also it is too dependent on whether the other person
is even wearing the favored hat. We all enjoy hats,
but they're not something to build an entire relationship on.
My advice to young people is to like hats but not love them.
Try having like-hat relationships with one another.
See if you can find something interesting about
the personality of the person whose hat you like.

"Lighthead's Guide to the Galaxy"

...All species have a notion of emptiness, and yet
the flowers don't quit opening. I am carrying the whimper
you can hear when the mouth is collapsed, the wisdom
of monkeys. Ask a glass of water why it pities
the rain. Ask the lunatic yard dog why it tolerates the leash.
Brothers and sisters, when you spend your nights
out on a limb, there's a chance you'll fall in your sleep.

Excerpt from "To Celia"

Drink to me, only with thine eyes
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And I'll not look for wine.

From "Petit, the Poet"

Ballads by the score with the same old thought:
The snows and the roses of yesterday are vanished;
And what is love but a rose that fades?

black&white

You see through me, don't you?

who cares about grass?

And I   d o n 't    n e e d

another kind of green

to know

I'm on the right side

with you.                                       

(don't need to lose it to know that you had it good)

here i am,

with my heart on the floor

&  my love out the door—

you     

should

be         -   

knocking.

but there it goes,

i've got nothing to show for
except pictures i pose for—

but i keep them

        in  a  box

under  -

my bed.

"You"

forgive me,my love;

i stand here all alone

(&i can SEE the bottom)