Conversations
Soft as syndromic love when drawn slowly through the soft mists of music
Time on your sofa is possessed by the vibrant chords and chimes of your words
A hypnotising trellis of extending ideas weaving the lush fabric of your song
And returning like a counterpoint like resounding waves
to splash and spray and thrill this eager caller
Fizzing like effervescent toxin they rush their conversation with feverish control
Or louche graceless abandon, or meaningless meta-garbage
But not you
Your words are born, rounded and enjoined in the full defiant spirit of our language
Into a glorious unhurried maturity, a graceful purposeful wholesome entity
That justifies your wonderful charitable sensitive soul
And I have upheld these moments in the panoply of things I love
In this eternity of things
I am just the sublimated part of a part of an atom
Whose microscopic contribution to machinations of our universe
Is as eccentric from the hub, and voided by suffocating tracts
As the icy planets are from a brilliant sun
In this eternity of feelings
I am as distanced from you as that planet and that sun
That can never expect your warmth or grace or your love or
To live those fantastic instances of confabulation its music and its magic
In intimacy with you alone
And so I am here
Cast in distant shadows
Held in distant ellipses
Until the very laws of relationships
That your god willed are fired upon the forge of melting heavens
Or I die in futile darkness unnoticed in the black lined emptiness