I sing from ignorance
a plaid expression
in a black and white world

sad that this
is not the typical
delusion or miscalculation

happy that there are
no meds to fix
this simpleton’s void

blissful (heartless)
joyless (brainless)
the way it was (is)

a shot in the
dark alley at night
heartache with the scent of Paris

my meager vision
penciled in like a casualty.
triage deemed quaint, like remorse

other skus have
replaced the hand crafted;
monks into machines

no slang for this
or warnings posted
just a freak ice storm

not passing soon

© Tom Watters  10/29/07

a jade glow from
the flat screen produces
product of memory
falls lightly like aerosol
I think of your eyes,
countless petty thefts
longing in that calm color

sleepless and dim
my window breathes
with the scent of a pepper tree
your hair close
and spicy with
the same slight perfume
proffered miles away

the warm satin of
your skin, kneading
lithe sinew in your body
I listened to your heartbeat
while you slept once
it was my favorite song
absently tracing my lips

fields of negative space
make pictures in the plains
your waist and thighs
landscapes of you
painted in my recounting
pthalo blue and burnt sienna
powdering nights like these

© Tom Watters  10/19/07

tenuous at the wick
you still left a pool
molten wax and
unanswered want ads
personals circled rather roughly

you loved me
for my words

my significance
idealized in a flash-card
practice of sorts
reminder that there
are “these” out there

with brighter whites
and bolder colors

silk will wear well
in these years, yes
clutch this memory
reverberant sounding board
of hard tack

a good novel
no illustrations, please

so yes, I am proud of you
your pennants dancing
brightly in crisp gales
the wake of your forgetting
will curiously instill some in me

© Tom Watters  10/17/07

surface resplendent
golden flecks of mica
tease underneath worn,
wrinkled foot-pads

boring internal fires sizzle,
sputter into composure
dangle results in the face
of fear, cold, and envy

these shores hear pleas
welcome new lust
chase homeward
horses of discord

pure is the result
of equal motive
the jagged rock transformed
into a sensuous touchstone

building a fortress
impenetrable, yet yielding
divine with the color of passion
light without heat

© Tom Watters  10/11/07