Note to Self

Don't forget to write a poem
about watching the glass-cutter
the crystal cutter, making his
plate pieces in Edinburgh
in the 90s

you are the crafter
you are the cutter
you are shaping the crystal
for people to buy

don't forget that

Darkness

While you all slept
I crept on keys
I kept the sleeping world of fleas
from flicking, drinking on their knees

now as the morning makes its rounds,
and dreamers dream their pleas
before the plants and diners flick
to "open" signs and seeds

long before the morning fog
from ocean side reseeds
and just before the sleeping dog
will yawn, she calmly breathes;

He, awake, with wandering thoughts
the black and white, he reads -
collapse, he's done, his pre-dawn fun
a poem, there it breeds

so bring the mirror closer Sun and
show us daylight's greed, when
dreams are gone, the night's undone,
we'll watch him as he bleeds

Pain

Can we forgive those things,
those people that hurt us,
that keep us stinging long
after the pain is gone;

Is our memory the wind or
the water when the waning
fire, the flickering flames
are almost ashes, extinguished;

Can we use lasers, shots,
or knives to clean and clear
the scars that sang blue
blooded blues on our heart's skin;

Is it forgiveness that drives us
or the need for forgetfulness, that
yearning to let go of the rope-swing
above the lake and photograph ourselves

before we hit the blue surface?