I Tried 2B

I don’t mind
my neighbor
down in 1B
and
his noises,
and how they reverberate
off the wooden everythings.

I trace his inflections
and wonder
what he’s
talkin’ ’bout
and whether he speaks
to his wife,
or to someone on the phone,
or to his birds,
or to himself,
or to no one at all.

Well,
I don’t mind.

I pass him, sometimes–
on my way in with mail
and coffee
and my little books
which do so gently
vibrate
in my arms.

That
I don’t mind.

I incline
my head,
and he just
nods in kind
the way that
Asian men
do–
as if
they wish to
honor you
with acknowledgement,
but could
not find
the words.

I wonder at the blinds
drawn against
blue somethings,
and the clacking of
plastic anythings,
but
I don’t mind.

Ya know,
those birds
chatter
every time I walk
in the door;
I’m not
him, though,
and I’m sorry
to disappoint
them so.

I hear him
talk to them
and even to himself,
sometimes,
and I envy him.

(It’s 4pm
and I ain’t yet found
two words
to rub together.)

I think that I’m done
thinkin’ now,
so the light
in my mind
is
less inclined
toward Descartes.

I reckon
I tried
2B,
but
it was not
to be,
so, with
apologies,
all that’s left
to me
is
not 2B.

And my neighbor
downstairs from
2B?

Well,
he
won’t
mind.

Sonnet I

While slept thee gently, to the stars I spake,
Of peril did they eloquently warn:
In whose chill chamber would’st thou music make,
Who tremulously sing’st of lips forsworn?
Such perjured melody hath worn thee thin
Within thy secret chamber’s icy walls.
Almost o’ercome, thine ill-possess’d therein
Bemoaning grief as on forsaken falls.
But hear me now as light gone forth from sight:
Astride thy cell doth verdant lie thy key;
In vibrating embrace wherewith thou might
Entrance thyself with thy felicity.
Within, her lustrous melody doth grow
In tandem with thy chamber fill’d with snow.

A 3am Soliloquy

The silence
is always
there.
_
(The darkness
is always
there.)
_
We think it leaves
when music comes,
but it is
still there.
_
(We think it leaves
with the light,
but it is
still there.)
_
Silence
is always
there.
_
(Darkness
is always
there.)
_
Without it,
what music (what light)?
what love (what sight)?
_
You
are like
the silence.
_
(You
are like
the darkness.)
_
I close my eyes
and still my lips
and cease
my drumming
fingertips,
_
(I dig
into
the past)
and find you
there
at last.