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!

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.

I’ll Know I’ve Made It, When I Get That Painting Home - Reprise (7/14/2020). -M.Weisgerber

There's a shiver going up now over my shoulder

When I hear the sun a blowing, when nears the rain and thunder blowing horn

Gunna take the time, break strides of this tender babe clutching hard

The thin lines between feet going deep,

Here comes the body strong, a healthy song thrumming

A hardened soul amongst the shattered tongues

Cuz your gunna blow me hard, gunna blow me down

Take me there, take me home, roll me over.

We share our dreaming, from time to time

We share our loving, this chunk of key-lime pie; 

sliced as a heart, again and again and again

same story, same end.

honey hold me tight just one more night and I swear

I’ll never love her like you – never love like this again, never

feel the night air coming close never

hold your covers up below my nose, not.

A lost a son I never had, not a father always mad (so sad)

Caught in the alchemist nightmare, the tubes and the fumes twitching

Lost in a back room, walls, shattered dreams not made for this purpose, not

falling apart in the cold stream down the road not,

someone you'd ever like to hold.  

There's a shiver, blowing over my shoulder

Prepping for the hard rain, on a thin frame

There's a comfort in the sadness, held.

There's a comfort in the drizzle falling down that we all can know,

A sadness I’ll always hold, a simple longing for

Her hatred, her simple fact of knowing such release.  

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.  

Another Way? (4/16/2020). -M.Weisgerber

These things, they happen to have an expiration,

like the pelvis shrinking down, itself curling into that cut of pain;

a shortness of breath, a tugging again and again at the flesh,

below the hands - those tools best used for hurting.  

Yet what do these trifles matter, compared to the heart?  

Oh, that organ it shifts, and pumps more than precious petals, or

rosewater scent out onto my lady's clavicle.  

Can it pause, shudder there along with my breath?

Anything to remind me of her, anything to hold

so close, so dear a tearstain on a letterhead that cant hold

all the passions I'm still left here grieving.  

The things that never were, and never

soon shall be, once more.  Again?

Keeping my room from being too clean, to neat, to trivial, for

oh the suffering, it is real, there will come a time for all to

bow before that hurt and hate and all the things that make our madness wellspring.

To let the water drip down through rafters, along, over, everything.  

The red cliff it watches, glances, glares down- thunderheads grown demon form there.

The hard dial, it clicks closer, so ever closer to the moment when, then

the bottom bag it bursts, the best made plans cinder, wood ash meltwater making lye, when we suddenly don't have a choice, no madness, quietude, either.  

To pray and pray and grovel, yet always knowing,

fighting against the urge, the edge, the gaping chasm pulling all light down, ever

that secret subtle knowing, that possibility, a turning, a leaping glee can follow,

For there is always another way: there is always...  there is always...

To make a choice then (softly, quickly) and then?  

And rest their, quietly, at least for another day.  

Once More, With Gusto (4/13/2020). -M.Weisgerber

No, I hate this place, the stinking beauty, the light, the simple way
it reminds me of norther France and that it took me away from you.  No,
I loathe the way I feel, every single day, despise the very veins pumping
along the oxygen that makes my breath recall the taste, the simple melody
of your stunning frame moving forward, upward, prepping for the ready, the grasping
my hair and pulling me close, putting me in my place, nearing for the taking
of the turning of me, of we, of us round and round.  A forever dance, no.

The way that plane took me away from you, standing there where the tears cascading
endlessly outwards, and no matter what my foolish hands could carry, or shift to try to build or to
attempt to lift them up, one by one or to glue or reassemble, its liquid courage I
needed to keep the hands from shaking then, to slowly stumble onwards.  No church there.
The whole flight listening to the mewling, the clawing of my neck for any intake and
 uttering over and over that I could have stayed, should have dragged myself to sanctuary.

I hate the way I remember now, this new clouding of the brain, I would have, still can change I
want to pull apart the fibers, desire to escape from that basement storage, the
tortures all around, then quietly feeling (now utterly knowing) I'd never be good enough, no
you insisting, pushing, forever proving me right, showing your a walker, always
forever and ever moving on - the one promise your stunningly deft on keeping.

So why try?  Why turn, why insist or do anything but burn?  The change, it always comes, no?
Fuck the law, fuck the lord, fuck the very falling of the sky; lift fists to the hand that nears you.
It shrieks, it leaves worse than ribs yanked one by one out through neck, it reeks, no
of blood spewing up to nimbus, out all over the sidewalk, people hollering.
a silence which eventually gathers round.  It startles, it scatters.  Disseminates the worst of me.

Of those divorces never hoping, no lack desire to be alone, with anyone (open there with me).  The
steady wanting turning expectation, expanding along to shock, dying quickly - how does one find
normal in this mood?  How are you at peace as the shards keeps spinning round, dividing, cutting: it
must be easy to watch from afar, the laughing additionally spewing filaments.  (no)  (don't believe it)

Then fuck them, fuck the very keeping of the dead!  For we join them, always,
their pointless whispers only threaten to unwind us, undermine
the converse order we didn't even try that hard to sell.  Alllll the pointless sucking.

I hate the lack of calls, the rebuilding of the nearing fates, no eyes, no attempts at trying, fights, wins
to cast or care or make a lasting dent of lasting....so yank them, pull them upward.  Out?

All is black then, all is hate - all is madness going on, forever sideways. 
Die, simple brains, perish.  Oh cast aside useless lungs; leave behind these things that matter not.

They are done now. Oh please god, let them be done. Something. Anything. The charring. Ending. I..

Dreams (for no, for not) (4/11/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Get your butterfly nets, get your giant hooks a sharpened
ready for mouths a gaping, the eyes flopped lollygaged style floundering, sifting, lounging.
Feel them in, gaff them well, club and club and club
until the feet dont feel well, or see the light; till toes cant stand the dancing.

These emotions, they feel like insanity rising,
they seem like stick stuck caught between the hard walls,
bouncing off the long halls, fleeing, gaining near to you.
All the flavors of a hug held near (sell it, dear)

For the only time I forget you, is in the imagined arms of another nearing,
which is a lie for none compete; they are stories strung true, twist clearly
yet I wake each night - yes, every single night, crying, feeling listless
from dreams of your hands there, outstretched, so near.  Nearly....

She caught me as one does a gift, did not turn away
that female folly, coming near, oft draining down.
You pull me into me, I sometimes spinning and don't know what to do
you shift me in to you, that kiss stopping time and mercy up and unto itself.

Babe, I woke from this day amongst a dream of you,
at the top of the stairs, sitting in that tightened way
saying all the things I thought I needed, wanted, desired now to bear
Not trusting that version of you, for the real you it churns

in all its twisting brain matter, punked me dearly,
Struck me clearly with a strait look, a wiggled butt
(The way she danced down the hall, grey walls decorated dearly)
She didn't revolt enough there, it seems!  Getting her hair a ready.  A dream?  XD

Babe, visit thus again, thus prep your hands for the holding
for its getting dark, your symbols quickly disappear
time continues to draw us, all the sad songs bind us,
till the Son comes round once again.

Babe, come again,
for the shades are falling, the stars are calling;
the dark, its getting near.
The cold, it rises.

Oh, so very dear; the nearing.
Adieu.

The Body Of The... (3/7/2020). -M.Weisgerber

To wake upon the rise, no surprise its still the same old blithing standard care as always,
Fretting here, worrying somewhere else there all about the flat:
Its as bad as you worried, the fear scolds that you carry
the small ones to rub our faces, each and sometimes every other morn.

I cant be sure you'll read the words, just showed ya how to work your mobile yesterday,
Hands shaking, so utterly sore from that other desire to long, to pray,
Body quivering, still detoxing from beside the worst of me -
Healthy now: the best time to get rid of or discard.

So what dear babe, what such little do we still have to teach each other?
Glean as the dark shifts round, a panic often found
You, only the same strict rules, the lies to tell yourself
That you don't need cornerstones, a gentle discard of belief, of prayer
I that reckless brown freckle adding on,
Choosing all those fears we held so close?
Choosing to ask of the other way, the one that you
cant seem to process
The deliverance, not from the old enemy,
Let alone the best contained within ourselves.

So which parts fall from us, the others soon delivered?
A hug, an Italian greeting that makes me shiver?
For its plague time, and as much as I want to remain close, you still desire to choose the falter
Its alright: you never need answer the questions sissy and I doth posed
Its ok; your hands seem so small, so old now as they reach
My lies; a neck best to ring and shake and scold.

Just a test, its still all very much an exam,
That they don't tell you of, the rules, the cheats, the answers thst all are love,
I am here with so very much, aware of what all could still yet be
You hate my house, I despised the aseptic of your room,
Embracing the ignore, which is twice as very bad
As I've always been told
As the morning breaks
And still that Son still rises.