Almost Heaven (9/27/2020). -M.Weisgerber

I will show you love in this handful of dirt, 

I will take a hand, make a vow till change this land, I will

I will. I will.

Make it.  Right.  

Shake it.  Break it all.  

Right

(Enough even,

to change a mind (?))

I entered in there, tearful, bright white satin still and laughter on the mend

head full of snow, crowds gathered close, lifting each other in

the ways it was always meant to be, me, we, a pocket full of hope.

Long hair drifting close, whispers past a nose falling down all over.

"Hello," I spoke to the wind, saw recognition almost in that face

slow in the coming, another howdy, another day then passing

There is no hurt in this place there is, only coming to go, there is

nothing here so she can't see the way I move, can't see there is no 

simply moving on.

I will show you love in a handful of sin, I

will show you the soft lower belly of a man.  I will

do my best to do it all over again, I can't make it, cant shake it

can make it right.  Now.

Can't remember the good times, can't see past the moons shine here, no

there are worms growing below this place, there are

things that move just below the sight, gravel giving way, there are

open pits so near to name.  No shame.  

Looking up to the hard light, shaking fists past the thick lines

Don't know what the taste of cocaine is or could be don't know

how your doing now, but in this place, its all of white, its

the subtle collapsing of a mind, it is.  

I will show you love in this handful of dirt, 

I will show them a world without the hurt.

I will break the very turn of the sky I am

Armageddon man, a heart of hurt.  A prayer just flying by.  

There is no shapeshifting past this place.  So,

I saw her face standing there, we knowing the deeper things, still

able to share a chuckle and a good tale and even though I love her now, always, we

are a lifting of hands out in the night, we are

the way foreheads smack together just right, we were

a flipping her over on the bed I was, everything she needed just right then, we

were everything that could take on this world and walk down that drive and I

then knew how to make it.  ...right  

We spoke for a long time, her not burdened by another man, she

always made then for the running, I with a knapsack full of catsup,

posies filling up the other hand, the dead brain giving way, flesh giving in

babe in this place we are all passed on, all rotting bone past gone.  

another vibe rocking on.  

I will show you love in this handful of sand, I will

show you the better part of a man.  I will, be those things that once you spoke

I will, I will

break it.  

Shake it.

Take it.

Slow.

So she passed me then in cut suit laying thin, she

moved on because that heart knows so very little pain, lost then

no hurt here, no remembrance of the bad times, so

I don't exist to that heart floating on, burning still, shining on I

don't know what to do with guitar in hand, no tunes on radio playing

its all coming in as static, the slight noise claiming times.  I don't know

what her name should be, or why I recall her face, the place where we

fell then for a fast love.  Will stand here till the end of time.  

Lost now in this place of bright, this

time of coming

white.  

I will show you love in this mouthful of grins, 

I will take an ear, make a vow to change

how it is I will. I will.

Make it.  Shine bright.  Shake it all night.  Break into that heart all

Right

as it was meant

to be.  

Rich Port (9/22/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Oh this city upon the sea, this town up upon a bay, 

steep streets covered now in brine, the crashing of

waves on strait shores, cats meandering the tall cliffs -

its where a heart can now reside; where my mind drifts between lies.

Listening then for the leaving.  

I met with her outside your confines, yes dear port, had to

traipses over the many causeways to find your jewel, had to

break my back above the sea again, happened to

find out that hot sun on white flesh makes the pictures last.

We never went into the jungle at night, only fell down on

a fishy port only, went up the long hills for a gazing out

at the hard moon riding full, at the pull of your hazy mornings coming in, only

walked the boardwalk about your bay, far below the tactile skyscrapers nest.  

She let me deep inside, you I'm just stuck now on the fringe, she

a million little hugs and a snuggle I can't get over, she, a memory I can't 

share now how we went back to where the dog howled, went back away

from your bright nights to another edge, went out

to a tougher shore where my heart froze, the many buzzing thoughts simply fell asleep, of  

a body truly resting in the Atlantic deep.

Its the very thing the millionaires fight for, its

your bright avenues slicing up the green, its

the concrete hovels keeping out the heat, letting in the dark, my heart, its

the very way without her round I'm simply going jittery, mad, bonkers:  

the opposite of sane?  

I want a ship out of control, to slide strait up your slipshots, I want

to rain destruction from my puny mind, I want

to break in the many ways I sought the sunset with her I want

to recapture that restlessness of your shores.

For my heart shall forever meander down that walk, shall reside

always near the small piers, the peepers, the perfect weather, the way

the sun has that trick of rising on you that way, the

her hand fit snuggly into mine, as my hair dried.

Everything was perfect for just that subtle moment, and if

I hadn't lost my damn ID just that once I'd have had one more night with you there, one

more skinny dipped memory with her and around her, and one more happy day away, from this mess

and this sadness and the very thought of her so very much happy now without me.  

Rich is only a metaphor for how a heart breaks, of where

my soul continues to go to weep.

My very soul, how it wishes there to be.  

My subtle soul; how hard its simple subtle shell breaks.  

Teach (5/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber

She didn't want children, that teacher so fast to preach!  Standing there, looking austere,
every inch of her that thing someone, everyone could love - a simple breath to be.

Sure, I miss her cheap attempts at gangster ways, the cock of head and clench of teeth,
as she screamed (the simple way she sometimes swooned, melted into me)

But once more  to that couch of lecture - the one where forever I am fool
I am summoned, taken, beaten wearily on the large L cushions.

I sometimes wish to see her her on her ass, out in the cold, small place where she can bleed
eternally knowing its how she grew up long ago, how I am still - this simple Ovid lost 

Perhaps that was her in college - she never quite did speak, or tell.
Stuck alone , her mother shrieking at the wall, soon a 45 tale not told.  

Sure, I saw her successes - how she'd kill to keep that life.

Sure I saw the accessories - the cheap way she'd cut a vein, claim a life.

But, Gods, that coldness - is it woman's bain to hold? 

It is my curse to maintain - a life then so bold?

But now adrift with one thing left to know - she may not want children, she

may not want success, nor care, nor kindness, but that simple question:

...did she ever want me?

So I drift out on that unknown sound, a different ocean yet to drown upon

this city worth dying it, this shore a strange confine dragging on

time trudging ever, ever, ever something something...and I there,

falling inward, crying outward, seeing the hard times by which

to take a hand.  

In That Moment, You/I...We Should Call (6/11/2020). -M.Weisgerber

When the punk revolution came love, it was

without expectation or blistering kindness, or any of

the million small things you attempted to explain to me, wasn't 

anything you meant, or tried, or tricked; neither you nor your empty bullshit.

When I, packed as a hundred thousand others in this and every town

got stuck, sealed, crated away in despair, lost our damn minds even, you

from lack of meaning or retreat didn't even attempt to care or call, didn't

take the forty steps down your empty hall, you in your anger, your worry, simply

 

didn't matter.

We missed your face, Love, we missed

the grace that always should have been, all the passions calling.

It's not the way love, of all the lessons you dearly drilled in, worked

your hardest to impart on me or anyone that would listen.

Love it...mattered, and though like scales we cover our flesh

in all the colors we never could express or paint or carve

in any other language other than love, Love, it 

mattered and though we got pummeled, pulled through this haze

the dark days passed and it mattered love!  

We came out of our basements, traveled past all the thin roads

that meandered through your woods, sometimes hampered dearly

as we moved on a while yet again, love, yet it MATTERED.  Love it mattered.

Dearest, that revolution you spent your dimes by, along with

all the follicles of your twitching hand arrived love, and

though you probably were too busy watching tube to care love, 

it arrived in time, finally, and now as the time that matters most arrives love, we

all sit in the street ready now to listen.

...will you?

Behind the Curtain (3/12/2020). -M.Weisgerber

I dont remember you putting on such battle paint,

your makeup for the crinkled part of your face as it scrunched so, the

breaking of your cornered eyes before they smiled, wept.

Yes you still use that same mirror I lent in, yes

The same carpet, the same exact part of you that quivered

except the heart, cept the parts that mattered - to someone (I guess not me).

Oh how we fucked around in front of

everyone, everything, making our own lines, taking

the strong depths that suck in all light.  No hearts, apparently.  

Should seen how funny she be, as I cracked her back 

on the floor there with a halo now of animals

so proud to attempt to call her mine: and now?

See her in the paintings now, posters wagging all round town

all the night breeze shuttering in through her open window, a quaking of

the very ground.  My utter soul.

We all had our strange rituals, 

Her, a decade doth in making, mine

an attempt to better claim her.  Now?

That open wound wandering round,

The chords that rise, the little trills upon the edge,

This ego going along with it.  Her.  Me.  Failing so.

All else wavering now, collapsing there,

a love somewhere else so get

behind, get back, get...get...something...there...me...

At least when you can.

Please.

Thanks.

Adieu.    

Another Mourning (7/13/2020). -M.Weisgerber

I woke to a warning, a wandering, a wounded heart reeling, the simple gasp
of a reality settling in - a tinkering of clocks made mantlepiece

shifting upon the dreams, then leaving me to weep upon the real waking, a

realization uncertain now to rise to feet or self or mirror fade, a

cracking upon the harder nights, a creaking of a lonely bed

your coffee grinder riding steadily on.  

You told me to take some steps, love, but you, it was you

who pushed me to the edge of ourselves and what love really true should be 

didn't, wouldn't help - the fringes of our lives, the way such things really need.

I forgot the lessons of the calls from London, the many shouts
between parapets, and the funny ways and lines of your life that simply

had to be.

I've fallen in love, love, with your version of love and who
I needed to be.  Your shame.  Gazing round at times that shouldn't want to breed

I'm wounded in love, love - of the forgotten places we often said we'd visited, but then,

your moving on, pretending as I always will at the better things.

Making them, you up in my mind love, of the timelines we witnessed, circling forever round,

of you and me being better than your subtle hate ever attempted.  There is 

a learning here, and if you ever bear witness to these words I don't think

you'll have any choice but to receive it.  See it.  Hold them dearer than my frame.

So when I wake from this poison I look over, curious what your new name is
what kind scratches are cast upon a page, of a man still bleeding deeply

I forgot the daybreak calling, the wanton breath seeping round.  

The highlight of my night (the woman of my life), here and forever more.
Oh love why do I tread such terrors, when there is only your kind form to

every morn to arise to?  Besides a warming of cold feet, a temper of

a shuddered mind, I find that there is a failing of another kind, a 

taking of the time between the shatters, the visions arising of another

breaking.  A point yet still in need.

So low though I erred before the first plane touched down and have 

time before the next nears, their bodies cant long last upon such twigs

twisting round the hard rungs, brighter than the daybreak sun

Take that louder life, I just yet was a passing moment here, wishing to remain

steadfast and true. 

In this I finally found the Godsong; the why and way to make it work, for your dead
killed in that accident down below my own hands, and

out of your basement I am finally able to be set free.

Fuckery, simple n blue.  

Adieu.  

Fracture this quaking heart.

Adieu.

The 'Burgh (8/12/2020). -M.Weisgerber

I remember being lost in the 'Burgh, half drunk, waiting upon a large bed
while your garbled phone with love upon the reciever, it was your name in my head.

It was your voice on the dial, a desire on the mattress but there could barely understand a sign.

I wanted to listen, be there how I could yet even then the sickness did arise.

I wanted to be your everything, fearful that you didn't understand the meaning of loss, or love

or all the things I still grandly display as an offering - such dust

it floats away beyond the chain link, it breaks beyond the dry sink

your very name makes the heart break, in the many ways that simple could and matter.  

A year - a year to get a life a moving off of hold.  A day.

It was love: a moment, a week - anything to keep up with jogger that was you.  Leg sweat.  

Moving fast, terry ho!  She will not last for long, and even though I filled your heart, a hope, 

you could not survive past the profile, the cases, the wasted version that was we.  

First one, then another, yet I always keep coming back to here.  You know the place.  

I missed her so, tried to tell her too, thinking of the shame and hate that followed. 

I miss(ed) you more, now that ever been, this sugarland breaking before the high.

Oh, how I wanted her to drive up, to experience adventure on the road, oh

then there was you.  There was the hope that could fall off the mountainside.  

Oh how I want you to break this cyclical soon to be, oh how I wish to be more than

A river valley rising.  Filling so.  

Everything else it fell away.  You now, there forevermore.  

I remember wandering Toronto before I knew it, them, wishing to take the you I didn't yet know

to all the faraway places, the heat, the droplets coming down

the places that yet could be so impressive; so much color.  

A strange park there filled with another flag, made all out of roses and coriander bushes.

It was so cold then, all the fell shapes rising - a strange bar

with odd English types seeking the same sex workers as you and I worked to hold, the

lakeshore a distance memory to be held betwixt us, Maryland

away from - my days became so blurred yet I enjoyed the clarity given.  

That land doesn't have any natural lakes yet that is where my heart keeps falling back to, I

should have know the insanity, I should have love you before calamity I

didn't know that I should have avoided you to keep you sane.  Hating myself there.  Wishing

to drown myself in a puddle that didn't count towards service.  

I remember wanting a future before it was found, I recall being

a bit tired, a bit curious at the you of you, the side

of your butt as you danced, oh God there was an acumen, a chance.  I

needed to be your everything and failed I...

I wanted to be that special someone, yet it takes two telling truths, no

lies amongst the feted, the failures, the hurt there everywhere.  Still rising everywhere.  

There was brick there, there was a simple chance at waiting, then there was

a plotting upon the strong legs, a nice hotel you didn't want to visit.  There was

a strong wind, sometimes green upon the receiving just this hard shell, a fire

rising every day here in the fall that I didn't know existing.  

a building that was nearing all the finishing.  

It was dark and blue there, a land of many hills, no sound.  I can't seem to see the sunset now,

all of this reads as cheap thrills, but you know forever the how I mentioned that

I will always love you.  Near that place of shame, where you tamed me so.  

Witness to your other fate.  

Don't be so angry, so full of hate.  Look this way, see this everything that still remains, its

unfettered now and though you have to look up every tenth word you also know

what my soul is like.  That this and every love 

can be true.  

Then the day breaks.  The same shakes, love its water in the borough.  

I'm fallow now, finished.  

The Steps (9/4/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Legs, butt, a navel soon in nearing, the grass

that covers all our frames, the dirt upon the clearing

I fell there, drowning fast.  I woke there too, wishing 

still to stay, to sleep, to forever slumber, rest.  

I lounged upon your back deck in the summer sun, rum

running fast, the dog laying beside me, heatcake she always is

snuggling close, looking at me sometimes confused (always confusedly so),

making me love her and you and that place ever the so much more.

I enjoyed your couch, your chair - wished to make love to you on every surface

on the countertop, the near kitchen table but no

my fist is the only thing I knew how to make, a hatred

of the day, they very way I suspected you soon of running, of caring this way so.  

I longed to know you soon before - oh the many days, the hours we could have had!

Camping out, leaning close - expanding that house, even together missing your dad.

Why, why couldn't I have met you a decade thus before?  Why 

just crumbs on the dust matt by the door?

Why now do I crawl upon your foyer floor, why

too did I cry all the way to the airport, in an uber, a taxi, all.

For each these times two, a million more days separated still from you,

the day burns, my skin curns, benethe a star we dare not truly name.

You looked best in flats, told me so yourself, stood fast

in anger held - you sometimes also knew how to yell.  

Your belly remained steadfast, I a wreck of love and a man

coming near yourself.  Do you, don't you, won't you understand?  

Not now, not in time, never - let me go therefore, if only 

to simply

drown again.  

These Days (a Reprise) - (9/4/2020). -M.Weisgerber

There is a chord that runs the entire length of you, not

strong veins nor the hapless brain confusing muddled signals, no.

There is a light from the towns that comes up all five thousand feet

to where I stand alone, wishing if only to jump, needing serenity.  

Calm.

As strong as the smell of your butt coming near.  

There is a hate in your heart which makes nuclear amusements bow down in quiet awe,

a forgetting of the kind times, an insistence on leaving me out here to rot, a

failing when a simple hello or easy phone call.

(Will she yet do the same to me?  We he to you?)

So why did I climb so high, if not to fall?  Could have been

happy in a landy merry existence, all the green grass and ferocious ticks 

calling clearer - an eastside boy always at heart, going 

to where the stupid sea and sky can't fail, can't help but to connect, to attract.  

Love, I knew those days would shame, write all the ways that a man can break or give, I

didn't know the strength then, am guessing so still now, yet somehow stand in shock

of your anger and your hatred and hurt and the multiplicity that still goes on.  A man

by any other name that tries could be approached with love,

yet kindness alone would do.  There is a subtle reminder of 

everything we didn't share in this strange place, the awful scent

of no maples, no mosquitos or swamp stink rising.  

Still came here anyways.  

I did not dream or hallucinate in the ways of my fathers.  I

did not collapse in their ways, nor rise to the challenges they set, we

went our own way.  It made a difference, it mattered.  It

also remained quiet out here, somewhere along the valleys edge.  Somewhere

where I knew not the stars nor the city lights nor the way I could begin to

look at myself, back towards you.  Look at others the way eastward towards your face.

The rising sun, a blistering heat always somewhere there rising.   

So I climbed as you pushed, and we both in such madness fell down together.   

They call it an angles port, yet with Canada so near and the Sound so clear I

still think it better just to jump.  Or at least to trip, anything but to shatter

this quaking quackery of a heart.

Yet why had I come?  The car was no help, its foolish horn sounded 

only on empty highway, the blacktop fading to great grey in time.  Failure

in its backseat remained stain-free, its lining stocking bright.  My mobile

was no help, its gimmicky taunt brightness showing only

the soft lines of my inner palm, the way my face sometimes caught

the lies growing daily, the failing flailings of a mind.  

This heart was no help, for its still beats on, still loves on into the dying of the dark.  The sun

is of little assistance, as its line creates worry and sweat, and another reminder that its

just another revolution, another circling round so very far away from you.  For now, forever.  

like it did when you neared, both working hard by which to keep out the dark.  Keep

the soft time of the days clock chiming.  Keep your insistent eyes reading these same lines,

somehow flowing over yet forgetting the importance of seeing, trying desperately 

to find the one damn thing that will matter.  Something there to soften your mood.  

A blonde Orpheus rising.  

After some time in which I could admire the birds, the words I simply just sat and stared 

and in subtle time

moved on.  

Still hoping for a sliding.  

Untitled for a Change (8/5/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Babe, there's a crescent forming on my face, there's a shift

occurring all over the place dear love, these faults

the lines are being drawn, growing wide, yawning

in the dark times of our lives.

Love, as I lay down there's something that opened up wide dear, a

hate that I didn't know was me taking over, there's

a simple time where we used to try, a 

fallow light in the hardest dark, there's 

a promise that remain there, yes something somehow unknowingly kept.  

There's a triggered smile growing on my face, there's magic happening here yes

all over the place again; round these parts the moon over the needle tonight,

a love that's a rising, an attempt at the simple trying, oh love

take this hand - take life back to a steadier shape, a trace.

Falling back into the sky again, tilting toward the all the cracks I knew not

were my own.

Watch the engine lean back toward the red line, screaming, wallowing.

Dear love, in the dark beside your bed I woke to

new passions, a fire growing inside,  I think I saw

no moon there from your window - I think it faced too far Northward, towards lee side.

I went to your porch and gazed longingly for its face, a 

feeling I suspected I would feel about your name, your place out here dear love, I

worried what it mean, I wished, hoped so that you would take my hand that

you would not let me go, that you'd always remember to call out my name, I

didn't know how hard to try, I didn't know the married life.  

You didn't want to leave, no I could not drag you, I

didn't know his name, I didn't know such shared pain, I didn't know all the ways a man

could take you.  Yes, you spoke soft words, yes your journal it spilled wide, but

babe understanding comes slow to those newly invested in the light.  

There is something growing below her belly now, love, there is

a navel stretching wide there is my hope for you carried strong, there is

a fist that rises to wrong, there is a simple me finally beginning to heal, wanting you

craving that way you used to look, with suspicion still in your eye.

I needed your kind attempt at staying, if just friends for one short life.  

So out to your porchstep, down to the drive; out past the grass that 

last I cut, love to where I found something inside.  It was there, it isn't here, its

anywhere your footsteps shall fall.  Looking thin, seeming chipper, I

think I'm starving myself to death these days.  

Adieu.  

Amen for a little while.  

Moonshine (8/31/2020) - M.Weisgerber

You and I we share this open wound,

yours down low, me enough to drive every man

even the very boys far out past the glen, beyond to the valleys even

somewhere towards punk obscurity, bleeding there profuse and ably.

Its all beautiful there past your closed window blinds and

no matter how much I cry or scream to the void beyond you you remain

Unmovable.  

No that's still you, yes it's there, unflappable yes

it lives between the starshine reflecting back at us sometimes yes 

it matters still, no I don't want to go away from this yes

I will.

I want to see those gents in black lounge there under a hot sun, look

out upon the Tetons and not be moved, see

the very heart of you clicking, beating away unchanged.

(I wanted to beat them) 

Even that seems not to matter somehow, just long paint.  

Its a twisting of your cuffs, the very walking of your dog that

is a subtle reminder that the world needs to go

somewhere that is in yet here.

For I've seen that woman in true throws of passions, I've

seen the remnants of love that could yet be (have been), I

was lucky enough to hold that hand, have it twist round

the very heart of the very part of me that matters so.  

To someone, at least.

Yea, yea sure I've shared that head, that bed yea

been best, better than I've ever yet been

knew all the chords, felt the fray rising, settling,

crying now that my fingers only refused their duty to play. 

No, no more - my heart it once knew they way.

No more aspiring, for she does not need it, want it - refuses even

to stand amongst the attempts at cheating or loving and hated passions all

driving us away.  No she doesn't.  Maybe she cant.  

I'm sorry love, that now's t he time, the season grown, I'm 

sorry love for these words are simply not my own I am

sorry, yet a heart of love, a life of joy I'll

forever be an attempt at holding you and this life, this gift of sweated love its gone

somehow 

astray.

Adieu.  Then,

you.