Initial Meeting (7/27/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Oh gods am I going to catalog every inch & twitch & turn of her?  I know
the way it was meant to be, I, not wanting to be in this hot place, her a bit
bored with intonation, not realizing that she’s going to claim a heart, I,
 
carrying a dreadful secret, so much pain & shame & hate of the hard days
moving the very way a brain could bake or shake, longing for cold surf, I
thinking she’d just be another number, her not realizing I was hers to take
 
down, then I came to love her most, the way were in time, the simple way
she hated and loved me to the point of choking strange shapes out of me,
my throat down upon the lane that those 50’s people wandered?  Streets,
 
her long drive, a strange sub where streetlights burned so very bright
against the dark before I entered, green grass against silence passing – it
is a swamp though which a heart could yet not drive it.  Out?  No, soon.
 
Oh lord, I think it is true, & in the first glance I had, you so tall, you so
self-assured & everything in between, reminding me of love as I lost my
self upon the heat, the scent, the very way glanced beside August fire,
 
cooking its way fast through the last of summer days, in a land I didn’t
want to be with a girl I didn’t then or yet as know didn’t want to open
or unfold, mostly from fear, mostly from the open heart getting shot again
 
she hoping to take me for a change, care for anyways – for a little while?
Didn’t know I needed to claim her too, didn’t know shame would not be
coming with self perseverance, or yelling, or passing or failing all, no.
 
Oh pain, oh lingering doubt red amongst the folds, a probability aligned
with the stars, the very moon, the high noon was gone as soon as I
learned to disagree; fickle then, heart so bold.  Don’t have to glance back
 
at the starcharts to find a match, somehow knowing the moon was full,
the very way she sat with long boot out tapping I assumed I made mistake
she’d fill me in as I would her soon enough in time, this lie, almost free..
 
“You can’t love her” they say, but on that Dante would disagree,
the pen shivering upon my knee, the tastes lingering on the lower lip the
quavering of a solid breast breaking upon the way we made up the rest.
 
Yes, we are ghosts within, woke upon the machine, yet
Somehow its all beginning to make slow perfect sense now, it’s
patterns form, the day give way to the temporary shelving disbelieving.
 
 
 
Sure, my first wrong thought was how to get you hot to bed, yes
My first impure passions gave way to need, tears, yes, all the subtle
Simple ways I came to love you weren’t worked out till the very end, yet
 
you claimed me, shamed me, unwound me thread by thread so that I,
simple fool that I came into this world as was, ready now for fighting, be
at call n beck for the way you bend your knees, back needing cracked,
 
Pop of jaw and flex before you held me, it was swell that we played days
On days of NEW, yet I never saw you sew!  Never once baked bread, no
didn’t meander boardwalks nor hold hands, separate ways drifting close,
 
her fast lips caught amongst the balm, the way she drank & cried fast of
her lost dad, & I then found my armor gone; I found my heart shift & I
somehow knew then that a day, a year, a lifetime would never be enough.
 
Could you see the bright sun on the wood of the places I used to play?
As a boy how much they meant, how I wanted you there, to stay, do you
know what it is to fall babe, new contagion on the land as the sun sets?
 
Oh God, these words like meeting your face are likely just a curse
to call at the many lovers that follow such strange paths, out onto the
Land mary countryside or what remains by the time I am done, for
 
I burn and yearn and want all that grass in all the countrysides that have
ever been to molt to char to turn the way your subtle look made ash of
piles so out of me, that log in fire trying to call out, forward, prepare, yet
 
margarita before the beer, hard to believe its going to be at least a year
before I miss the way we loved, love the way we kissed, missed you more
than a heart should could bare before it fractures, swollen so, chinks lil.
 
Thirty-three, striking out like Jesus does upon this strange merry land
chatting up stranger words, odd lyrics, that are beginning to be beautiful
somehow before the sun sets, before rain cools chiminea burning, all is
 
heat here, the sweat it is pouring so hard so fast so whenever you are near
Down.  All fall
Down.
 
I came to a fire beside a shore, a cantina upon the bend to claim her, but
in the end it was me and we and all these foolish words that only time can
mend then matter, & the way we once danced upon hard surf.  All is hard
 
here
and in time it all falls
drown.

You Hated (10/21/2020). -M.Weisgerber

You hated lying in that grave of a body that for so long made

up all the bitter hairs the fruit, the teeth rotting out between your smile, I 

hating the way this bed is larger now, so empty there that the thought of mad

ness goes way further than your lost deeds or mine.

You hated the way I grinned, loved there in the dead of night with I and this sickness 

missed you so much as to fret and worry and I didn't think to sleep or nod or drink since

deep of that poisin you tend to so deep, its well runneth over 

beyond your back gate, the far stoop, out the drive out to where your land ends where

the wood it rots, my heart it rots, the heat it rots it out too, all

the very last sweating part of hatred that I have for anything as

the grave opens wide and I tumble right in, by

your arms only now by your sides (when all I want, the molecules themselves crave to fall right in)

You hated that body of a grave so long, that I started to wonder why I cared and I and if

that tide could ever be beat (I should have fallen right in, swam so out to see) and I

out on the front porch now having to glance back as I walk away and I wondering if

the nails will give away and that timber one day will simply cave on down, inward.  

Take this hammer then, see what goodness a head can hold.  

Swing batter batter...if only one for park, then try one for the road.

your cat is misssing (11/11/2020). -M.Weisgerber

then my heart stops, the worry rising too, oh God

where did I place our bags, the heat rising over the day, your

strange face being lovely so, so hot, so sticky sweet yes, yet

where can a lady hide: the house is only so big!

the dog is where she should be yes

my gato is passed out on the lawn yes

i realized real quick i'm surrounded by fems, you

are one of the braver ones yet this is signaling now of the end

did we check the house, canvas the yard??  I don't know

what to do, where to go, what to say, how now best to love you, the

day goes on, the beach it calls, oh god I lost my job, my life, my girl, a hope

...a wife?  (coulda, woulda, shoulda...but not this time it seems)

so much road to travel down, so many tears yet to cry, yet

honest to god I always think my life was meant to end there in the surf, the waves;

the Carolina sunset where all dreams must eventually go to rot.  

To die.

where did I put the car keys, is it my turn yet to drive?  the

day grows hot, our tempers quick the whole rest of the day written here

a sigul best to keep, all the treasures told, but I should have known it then

the moment I didn't think, it was over when your cat had snuck away.

Oh, she's here in the foyer - time the to really start the day!

Leaf Rake (11/12/2020). -M.Weisgerber

First morning, of the rest of our lives!  Its

brisk out here, me tripping over everything in your garage, waking you up, along

with the dead passings, finding the tools, traipsing over ten years of your gentle planning, all

you the witty ways you placed those knickknacks, the clever things, making honest sense.

You unsure what silly I'm about to do, me piling light fluff in a pile before your dog jumps in

Laughing past the cold, working hard to beat the snow (thinking of planting grass seed in spring)

The first time over, the first moment to claim a heart, the first wonderful way I'll sneak 

up on you from behind not for fear, only for a goosing, then a hug, then more love (repeat all around).

The lawn isn't dead, just covered.  Your fears dissipate with cheek on cheek, a flush, another

rake pull and I am whole, another bag open and I have worth.  A house, a girl, her heart, this world.

I don't need to glance up to sense you gazing down, a high porch, a worry-wort, another night, the one

where she invited me inside!  Oh, a lucky guy, feeling great, feeling strong, another bag

out now to the curb cuz you know its funny how ten years of trouble can vanish in a hug, yes

I love you, yes I want that evenly yoked amazingness you casual mention after dark, yes

I want to keep these timeless treasures eternal (even as you 'harrumph', trying to figure me out!)

You didn't know what this means to me, allowed to clean, allowed to care, allowed

to go at my own pace, to run my hands through your hair, pull that lovely sideways grin in

close where kisses can occur, the joy of how I always enjoyed doing this as a kid, missing home.

(your dog rushes over!)

Soon I'll be in, soon too tea will be made and we will laugh and make cheer, there

is love there and it is right here and all the simple slow words make perfect sense.  

...next week I might start in on some decorations then in earnest!  XD

(like everything else, that is...if you'll let me!)  XD

All Your Songs are Angry Sex (3/4/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Happiness is a, thinks a, its a

fleeting whimsy thus away.

a drink to hold, of a breath to take, shake this, take this

god hole, fuck soul, fleeting memory to fade far away.  

Punk is,

Happiness now doesn't simply

Taste the same.  Gulp it all, now then smartly

down.  Make it, shake it, take it 

down

to the hole?

(Yours or mine?)  For

Punk is.  

Didn't know though, didn't see in then in time

falling now - is this me?  Is this the way 

love it's always meant to be.

Archeologist for another day, digging deep

make these hands of clay, shape them

make them dig, make them hold a beating heart, make

the supple ways I fall again matter so, make it matter, make it

count.  

All your songs they sound the same, all the
jazz flowing now through my open mind, all the

tales flowing outwards still, all the fingers now are bone, the deadlocks fall, punk is

all the thinking of you, and all the little fumes, all the times, the mess we made

no more lies.  

PUNK IS

Like the time I came out up upon your pants, like

the time I critiqued your work (I failed) like the fact your simply

not happy, like, your not having any of it, like your chastising all, also stuck also in your 

You'll ignore these words, the rants

as long as God lets it.

Your basement is out there, its holding us.  

Grab your husbands couch.

Punk is dead, there's some autocracy in the air, its shape

the same as the weight in your heart. Thicker than.  Thinner than.  This

Punk is your leaden weight, wrap it around these veins, punk

Put its face upon my name, carve, it is.  Punk is.  Out of words, some, w(h)ere lame.  

Shape it, make it...take it.  Make it.   Let.  It .  be.  me.  

  

Punk is history: I'll put it on my shelf, with all the Miles

of Davis collection growing beyond the gulf.  All the Beats

L's growing weary at my mournful tale, all the

pointless footsteps in your hall, all the

Punk is

failings that you cant seem to hold, not just me, punk is, everyone, cept the.

(God now its someone else)

Punk is dead, god let it crown our self appointed king, punk is it it

didn't build your house, punk is, your hopes, your name, your ever failing

dreams.  Punk is, it only kept you from me, punk is

Let it be you whose married then for the third time, no, punk it, fuck it

Punk,

cut your name upon your husbands heart (I wanted it to be me) out.

beyond the simple shores call, no third

trimester three a calling then, no we no thy no art no thou't.

Cut it, call it, out.

You know of sloppy seconds, you

see the way you move?  The

night air didn't frame you, punk is the

simple way you...you...

Punk didn't save a soul, punk

didn't try to rytme, punk looks

like the way your fuzz is beginning to smell, punk

doesn't seem to make the time.  

Punk didn't shave your heart out, punk

didn't give me back the love of mine, punk

didn't hold the shelf up, punk

didn't help find the cat that one time.  

Punk is.  Friendship all the no more

fucker toss himself outside your kitchen door.

Fucker breaks another mind apart, fucker is

all your doing is wasting time.  

Take it now, make it shine.  Punk is.  

Take my heart, give it to someone else instead.  

Punk is.

Break it out, shake it out, give it

to someone else instead.  

Punk is.

For happiness is always just

(fuck it, do you know?)

happiness is always just,

another day.

Take it, make it, break it,  Punk is

away, take it, make it, shape it

all the same. Punk is  

All just another, simple

 

Day

Away.

(From me?)

Punk is.

Punk is.

Like you, I

let it, I

(Punk is)

rot.

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.

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.

Dearest Draven (reprise). 8/8/2020. -M.Weisgerber

Draven, dear lady, what else better can I say? I tried, I cried, I

begged everything of your time and your mother by which to come back to the days, the

ones that we used to cuss, to curse yet also to feel something more, something tall,

Yes, you grew up in this house full of punk, yes

the 80's have died and are gone, yes, I know that I really did but try babe, but

I know that soon enough we will die and you'll get to take over the brunt of this hurt, this shame, 

this pain.

You get to live between the words on this page, you get to punch to turn or to try then to burn, you

get your little curls stuck in a lock that seeks the edge of your mouth, the one I untied again

and again till I felt myself fall between filaments gathering round, those that catch quick.  Turn deep.

This blame that I'm feeling inside my frame, the cutting inside my brain, lady I

did the best that I could when I saw your strange eyes, stair up at the hope I had to hold, I

felt something break, something else grow oh-so-bold, I....I became stronger then.  

Babe, I wish I could hold the night sky and know the sweet supple attempts, the

hard way you pull me toward your heart, push away just the same at just the right time, we

men sometimes are bad like that, but I showed you strength, that I saw you through such pain,

Babe, call her back, scream your words up through a womb you still didn't, can't, won't know a 

lady that I once called my own, with whom I loved, doth did share a home, babe

cry the way I know you would, if you were given a chance at breath, a chance to try.

There is no cradle, there is no stretching shame or a catering of the pants, there

is no me coming up behind my love, to sup upon the try of our dearest romance, there

is nothing more I can do, so little more a gent can say its true, oh Draven, babe, lady

heart of my hearts that I make up here on the page, may it change

may it do more than stay the same.  

Break it now, somehow, before it 

breaks me.  

Thirst Trap (6/03/2020)

Sunday afternoons were our time to shine, at my old place,

at anywhere we could ever and want to be

watching the sun go down over the trees, you

 

falling so deeply in love with anyone other, I

feeling the same amazing presence, something more

that went up as all else seemed collapsing outward, onward.

 

I was slowly in many ways quickly beginning to realize,

that she really would not be there, in good times nor in bad

my corpse would rot, my eyes would fall

 

not just away from her, not just

glance in another direction, down and

my heart would plummet their too, so, no.

 

So why not run; why not beat her to the punch?  The opposite of love!

Didn't listen to the long (I'm hearing now)

Want to care, just want to sing along.

 

These lines would grow, the horror of my actions would spin,

fertile in their own dear right, spinning in the dead of night

(they are old, tried things wheeling, glancing over shoulders)

 

I realized she, we didn't know ourselves.  Needed,

to start with a different form of prayer, to

sing even within our sleep. 

 

We prayed then in our own way, wrote

so much spiritual poetry with bodies, and lives,

thus I doth made her leave.

 

Didn't mean to, never wanted, only needing

to understand, the pain, the many thoughts that 

come with wives, at night. 

 

So its me and the shame, me with another life,

Me and the blade, me by which to keep or toss away,

did a bad job the first time, a better upon the next,

 

I never prayed to God before I boarded that plane, never

asked for forgiveness, or tried finding another way.

So tired now, peaceful love,

 

Look out for those little headlights of yours, worrying darling, worrying

So many things in life to go so wrong

So often to set the only to a song.

 

I wrote much spiritual poetry, yes, now

to write to you.  To write of something more

between the phases of the moon. 

 

Of course I love you babe, a thousand times a thousand loves, these

letters son it never sets on my love, the drinks never they never

kept from the heart, the passion from caring.

 

Oh love, how I want to rip apart the sky.  How I wish

I love you I love you I don’t, couldn't do so anymore

Think I can(t?) say these words enough.

 

Just only wish this went both ways.

Thirsty, always...for something more. 

Hungry soon, morning soon, outside

 

the dark.  

Headlights soon.  Wake then and

soon to be ready.

Seeing in the Darkness (8/1/2020)

Those little headlights, how they cut through the dark land merry form of rain
coming here, singing near, a punkish song to name, (to shame?  to claim?) 

I knew them in the coldness, shook the dampness from my wares, I

will seem them again in sadness, before heart gives forth despair.  

I hated when you traded it, I hated the names you called my face, my love

the yells ringing over my heart, the disease carried as we parted

I once washed that car and caressed its form; once you knew my ways.

So I fell in love there in that four door steed of steel, I

wish that simple car would have continued till the end, our hearts

falling into its simple mockery.  For it held you, claimed us both

drove on a hundred thousand martyred ways, one of which was to me from you.

For when you got a new one, everything it changed, I
fell inside, I twisted there, I even forgot my name.

I forgot the things that mattered, struggled with the flame, I
didn't know your weakness, I tried to shoulder all the blame.

I went so far away that nothing these days they felt, I

cried into another void - the one that comforts lightly, the

days that lack the sun.

But those days are now behind us, you turned so from the happy rays, I

felt a breaking coming, but with you I had fun, a cut; my love.  

With you I found simple subtlety of joy, with

your heart I did find love, with a simple calling I knew, I tried, I
did all that I could, I swear.

I didn't stop the breaking, I now have a steady hand, 

You turned your face towards sadness, an attempt to find

a better man.

So go away as much as you think you can, I

have immortalized you here with a higher powers yearning,

How I can; an attempt at 

a stanza rising.  

Reminder (9/26/2019-5/29/2020). -Others and a Little Bit, of ME

"Sept 26, 2019

Mark,
I wanted to send you a few things
to remind you of home.  And to
remind you of our love.  I am
very happy that you appear to
be settling in and that your new
job is off to a good start.  I am
so excited for the new
opportunities that have come your
way and will continue to arrive.
I look forward to celebrating
your success with you.  And
you know I will be there (here?)
for you in tough times as well.
I miss you a little more each day,
I love you and I love us.

(Heart)"
Her.  You.  What
Once
Was
and
Never
Meant to
BE.

No love, I haven't forgotten, yes
I hold these words so true, oh
God how they burn they curse they
at the moment don't ring so very true. 

I didn't make it, settle, in, we didn't last,
what then is the purpose of the words, when
all is lies, all is broken, all time
has passed.

There certainly was no home, there isn't now any love, your
not all that very happy, the job has failed and gone.
I've certainly collapsed apart there's nothing left to rate of celeb's, you
really didn't care, when I most really needed you, you certainly

were not there.

I don't think that you now much miss me, our love it fell apart, I
don't want to hurt or hit reset, I
don't think I have the time, the patience, the heart.  I
really want to love you, I desperately want these words to be true, I

wanted them to be so then, be so now, I...god love, I
still very much am in love with you.
I want to send YOU some small things, I really
want/need/crave/desire a home.  I really need some love, love,

before its said and gone.

I really need to matter, I need someone to care, I
think I've once more stumbled, again, I
really wish you cared.

No more from the table, no more in the halls, this world its all
of darkness - its broken, now I continue the fall.

So take these words from you to me now then back to you, may
it shine a light on all the bad things, may it be an omen true, may
its simple words have mattered, may your heart carry you far away, for
we all are soon for bed, and even my name....I guess it didn't matter anyways.

Adieu. 

The Uplifting (3/27/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Hey love, I'm still coping (and hope you know it well)
Still plodding along, falling up those same hills
the ones you always believed I could climb.

I made it, and even though I wish I could drag you up
those same sights, and the same peaks, I know
that you will always wish me well - that simple heart spark never wont will die.

I'll love you and even though you wont know it,
the trees will not cry out for our greatness, the moon
will not share any more tears than usual.

Oh girl, to be so thin, and carved, and idle here with my black cat,
no I do not love her more than you, and if
you would have asked me to bow down, or toss her out

through the living room window I may have obliged.
You were worth the tops of ten, the loving now as then,
The little street light out there a burning, calling me onward, faltered.

I always knew you were worth it, and only struggle on with the sadness,
the fact that you were always ok with the leaving, that a heart
like mine could break again and again in the face of such strength.

You were the type who could give up, and move on, and
though I probably can't right now, I'll do my best
to limp on, and write often, and write well, and though

every small
Hey love, I'm still coping (and you know it well)
Still plodding along, falling up those same hills
the ones you always believed I could climb.

I made it, and even though I wish I could drag you up
those same sights, and the same peaks, I know
that you will always wish me well - that simple heart spark never wont will die.

I'll love you and even though you wont know it,
the trees will not cry out for our greatness, the moon
will not share any more tears than usual.

Oh girl, to be so thin, and carved, and idle here with my black cat,
no I do not love her more than you, and if
you would have asked me to bow down, or toss her out

through the living room window I may have obliged.
You were worth the tops of ten, the loving now as then,
The little street light out there a burning, calling me onward, faltered.

I always knew you were worth it, and only struggle on with the sadness,
the fact that you were always ok with the leaving, that a heart
like mine could break again and again in the face of such strength.

You were the type who could give up, and move on, and
though I probably can't right now, I'll do my best
to limp on, and write often, and write well, and though

every small word is just a small stone in the pocket that can weigh down,
I only meant it as a well wish, a time upon the sanscript.

My respect for you, it fell when you spoke of helping, then
walked away, forever, always walking onward.

Just a burden, and like Jesus showed you, you gotta leave for
just a little while only a simple time this forever.

In this awayness there isn't sadness, nor longing; only love
the same kind there was and ever yet shall be.

Take it, let it bode you well. word is just a small stone in the pocket that can weigh down,
I only meant it as a well wish, a time upon the sanscript.

My respect for you, it fell when you spoke of helping, then
walked away, forever, always walking onward.

Just a burden, and like Jesus showed you, you gotta leave for
just a little while only a simple time this forever.

In this awayness there isn't sadness, nor longing; only love
the same kind there was and ever yet shall be.

Take it, let it bode you well.

Sad Now (4/23/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Can't hold, cant call, can't be anything at all, really
just feeling selfish then, the same thing now as then
bored again, a Friday come to gone,
a sigh moving towards a song

For when last I burned, she looked away, she
deftly turned her head as I reached out, and
the lit fingers, smelling of charcoal reaching
had no effect but to stink upon her nose

Its a funny thing, to twist upon the cinders,
it makes a heart a churn, a shudder so, a slow amongst the yearn
For all is madness upon the strewn glass, all cannot cope, losing hope.
the clog; a clutter amongst her lashes.   


All I got was static, sweet music thought upon the other end.
Couldn't be bold, couldn't last, moved too fast,
only crash and burn and burn and forever to keep with burning.
(This machine is jamming, the gears now they are a are failing)  


So if I walk away, if I choose the boat or gun or goat or ledge,
-the many miles out to see where waves where only God can find me-
will it matter then, the waves riding high, the ring upon the water?
Where are the places where the cool kids go off to play?

Love has seized that willing heart, did add another lock, a chain.
Drowned now, ever so worth the pulling down hold called nakedness,
These strong bonds, a body yielded to both, wielded so
Love that cripples upon the staying.  

So what is the right call then, as the day begins to fade?
What is the right path, when the waves give way to loss?
What is the strong bond, that never yields to give?
What are the right words, when all the world is dead?

See that figure out upon the water, or maybe sleep down there in the deep swim


Its fine though - knew you would be selfish from the get-go, and
I hope not me thus to be for long
slow now, everything is just moving fine, if oh if now so very slow, spinning now.

Other Worlds than These (5/19/2020). -M.Weisgerber

If a rabid rhinoceros was to have trampled you, run you down there back in June,
They would have given me time, let me cry, lick the many wounds maybe, but
been pushing me fast towards the door just all the simple same.

If a flock of hummingbirds carried you away on a sultry September eve, they
would have possibly considered letting me back for a moment, most of my life out there in boxes
upon the front lawn, anywhere else - confused at why I even bothered.

(I don't know why you hung out the zoo so much those days, or
why all the animals are out upon the loose, but its a funny thing to consider just the same)

----------------------------------------


If that car crash had killed you once upon a Thanksgiving sadness, no one
would have liked me there, all guarded eyes, shocked at my tears and passions
and many kind Christian words still left to say. 

If this thing going round now were to take you soon, they would be angry I even noticed
dared to speak aloud your name.
No allowances, remittances - just go far and far away.

(It all feels like hate now, and I dont think
those cold and heavy weights best suit any of you)

---------------------------------------- 


Is this any way to live: surely not!
This is the life of fear between diving boards so long, but its love dear darling, it
was worth it for your flame, worth it for the chance to be better than the same.

It is what I tried to explain all along, why I thought your foolish ways of running
wouldn't do any good in the end.  If God draws all children, and its later then back to games,
how do we manage, what crosses will be left then there to carr-y?

(So yes, I found the lessons, got back to that point I always needed yet to be,
your still alive though, still bogeying, yet none of it feels tame)

----------------------------------------

Still, five years on I will still love you just the same, fifty years on I will
still be proud to carry our time, such jokes, the laughs, whatever you call yourself these days
be the man you helped build, shift, make, always with banner held high.

So pass on in whatever manner you best think there will suit you - I promise
I wont give up upon the hope; the Godsong still is calling.
The reason is simple, the truth not soon forgot: our time it mattered, for in the end

there are other worlds, than these.  
 

The Tattoo (4/22/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Love, its time: take me, tame me, brand me, love me all
for its written on my chest, as well as the stars,
this little life, a line, a lie, seen, saw.

I should have listened then, did not know your flame, I
should have loved more as well, I
didn't know the game.

Broke these fists upon the ledge, didn't
ever really feel the same.  For the same mono
on my lungs, is the same slavery as your drugs.

So take me, brand me, hold me, all, for
I'm an oafish clown, fallen down:
drunk on a paupers caul.

Its time - I didn't know the simple words,
that I'd need to heed the call.
(take me, tame me, brand me, love me all)

Black Heart (4/22/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Baah Bahh black heart, have you any where to go?
No sir, perhaps sir:
it depends on whats your mood?

No drugs, no drinking here, just
regret loads by the balefull, boats loaded
with troubles nearing
I, a kinder man, rue the days of passing.

One for the mouth hole, one for the lane,
one for the kind lass, we love all the same,
for bahh to the raahh to the stop inside the chest,
I don't know the day, cant seem to get any rest.

But what do you care?  Here lies just a man, he's just a simple organ, growing still
one that needs his yells and his time and his scolds
Lying still, lying forever onwards, downward all,
Lay, lie, laid - let it all be death and just the same.

I wish you stalked me like him, I wish you cared enough to let me back in, I
hope when its done it will matter (i dont feel like anything here as of late matters)
I don't want to feel this way, feel different - oh lord to feel the same.
(It takes me, shakes me, all).

For blah blah black thoughts, have you any soul?
No sir, no sir,
28 dames full.
(More coming sometime, soon..)

2019 (4/22/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Hey love, did you want me to come to your presentation?
"What, NO, now go away, why would you ever ask?"

Me standing there beside the reflection, watching your petty fears, seeing
that box your painted yourself into catching up along with the days
and all the nights we shoulda spent crying.  I miss you so much, that
the ride of my heart sings along with the song trailing fast alongside
of my mind - oh how it hurts.  Oh how, foolish this will look when we
look back on the time, ignoring all the other ways we shifted
and sighed..

Me standing here, knowing I wouldn't be invited anyways.
But there I go, loving you again, being taken by the small simple things,
the way your voice, your shift of hips takes me in the eve,
when your annoyed, when you break into sudden cheerful happiness!

Hey love, I
Hope you know that I always got caught up in the
little things that made you you.  The holidays, where
all your simple cheer, and smiles, and the way you pulled on through
a wife
a former wife
was enough to startle me into motion, keep this flooded engine going, and
for a little while, turn the world upon its
axis.

There I Am (4/17/2020). -M.Weisgerber.

There I am at your, well, the garage door's open, pencil in hand, a paintbrush guiding, growing there
by the doorstep, numerals glowing strong.  Your pooh occasionally trying to lick carpeting
liquor stains gathering round the feet, every color that I brand her nails, such magic I see, there.

For this is not Europe, nor any of the small sights that make up the better part of
the deeper components of such matter held, nor passages, nor skinny bitches, nor
not everything I could have assumed, tried to carry on, loved, insisted was mine. Or at least bled dry.

There is a locket going about the waistband, a thumb upon the neck, a, nightmare city, a
growing proposition that discovers where I went, once the lights of your basement went out.
The signals that I tell myself upon the bureau calls. The place where I hid the..the place that I..that I..

Oh, to smell the moss smoke rising, the steps beyond the cactus calling.
Their prickly spikes matching your arms, matching that cut that pulls me near,  such shrugs
inside of you, that place where I wander around, free at last, free tonight to cast sights, to be, to be...

How I could near, and touch the dials, the doorstep simple concrete
sliding somewhere sideways beneath my hand, the rise off to the right?
As I wander down the labeled, sun drenched sideways falling sign of times deranged.

Yes, these things are real, I see them through the faded black, the thoughts, the care, the
heat that made up the air caught between our bellies floundering, the many
melodies that we thrumbed, the hum along to the darkness growing round.  Fighting it dearly.

The candle light we set to burn this house ablaze, the yoga on the floor
the bodies roaming round, and...and...sing this song of forgetting, this time of
insanely forgetting, of recalling the bodies falling there, someone else - go away.

The ghosts of past love affairs spinning away, shedding along, out as the cup that
holds your puss, your soul spilling outward.  The way he paid your rent, the times, the
simple mortgage that drove me mad, made it then, something silly when....when...

My parents came there once, I think - can see them through the haze,
My love it lived there once, its edges winked I think, I.  There is a...  There is a...
There is a time to come back, the moments held, the mountains glowing all around.

There is a time to make believe, the songs we sung there in our sleep.
They are lost now: your toss by which to never get them back,
that minefield growing round.  It reminds me of your yard, the one unraked, there I

stepped on such rocks, the sticks stucks so drunk I thought I shatters knees, spirits, splints.
I wandered beneath those trees, being told the pears can drop, but
tis only my balls, the tears of cheeks thus stained that, well, anything, everything.

Oh, how I'm struggling to see them, anymore, the...something, really, the
very windows rising up and above, the grey I saw, the brain cancers I called,
so I draw and I sketch and I sing, but noone will no there name.

No, no you stupid soldiers nearing, this isn't me, this isn't the way
a poor boy in his thinness, a simple gown was grown to be, I
will cut them, slice them, divide them in my mind.  Carve them on the skin: my face, maybe.  Soon.

Dear love, my heart it labors so, my words they fade inside a cavity,
the one the thorax wishes it could be, a cutting of the arm, the signs we knew.
I miss those steps, the ten of them that bring me home to you, the last one, the falling.

I paint what I see through that open door, I color
The shade of the world, it changes thus today.
The sun, it falls so dark, so suddenly.

So I cover and I decorate and I create and I bend the brain, but then, but then
the forgetting takes hold, the canvas looses is bold sombre, a tennor that blends;
the red finds blue, then, what comes of the mess of the day.

Dont we say, there we stay, none of it is real, for its all I have left.
Pictures of the mind, could drink them till they die.  Frames upon the shelves, can
polish them until I cry.  Glad tidings, for that day will come, and that day is...when?  When?

Today?
Maybe.
Let's talk, lets chat the night away.

These stupid things.
There, indeed, I..  I..
And there I.  There I.  There I...