Ten thousand cups of coffee black,
much numbing wine at day’s bleed out,
so many meals have passed my lips
sweetened by love
or bitter pill,
and just as many words have spilled
their perfumed drops or
The slip and slide of kisses deep,
the lullaby of near heartbeat,
the bruising hand indifferent,
the knotted scar grudge left behind
have all been mine somewhere in time.
So too the heart did oft contract,
when terror knocked with red right hand,
and grace of peace was given me
abstruse, unearned, yet given free.
Such moments made of sweet or sour
have lead me to this here and now.
Funereal breath of flowers dead
forgotten on the mantelpiece,
two lazy flies buzz slowly by
and I am caught in my mind’s eye.
I feel again the cradle rock,
the cool embrace of water’s touch
that etched a salt tattoo on me,
a lacy talcum filigree.
The sea crocheted a frilly hem
black Cockies slashed a ragged seam
into a bone white heat blanched sky,
and I am stitched with every scene
forever forged by what I’ve seen.
Forever forged by where I’ve been
each moment past has lead me to
this zero point of here and now,
the place to be or not to be,
that pregnant void where things to come
exist as everything and none.