Love In the Year of the Dog (poem)

I stand in the snow

In wonder

 

At how

It all went

That way

 

At how

It all became

That way

 

At how

It all stumbled

That way

 

I stand in the snow

In wonder

At how quickly

We all went

From

 

I want to be happy

To

I want to be comfortable

To

I just can’t take another punch right now

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The Last Wolf of Womankind (Poem)

There was that stare in her eyes.
I used to know it very well.
And I had suspected.
It had gone instinct.
I had suspected
It had vanished.
Under occupation
After occupation
Riot squads
Overwork
And daily struggles
Like paying the rent
And food
And mistakes

There was that fire in her eyes.
From the days of riots.
Not so long ago.
(Six years at most.)

As the last time
The youth took
To the street.
Against infamy.
Idiocy
And common
Simple
Stupidity
Against
A world gone mad.
On hatred
Debt
And amphetamines

It all has gone silent now
The streets are quiet
But I remembered
When I looked at her
Of my own days
As an anarchist.

There was a fire in her eyes.
Only matched
By her beauty.
It’s true.
There have been many
Gorgeous women
Who walked the earth.
But rarely with that
Fire of hers.

It was not
A hateful
Rage
But a caring
Rage.
The rarest of
Rages.
The best of
Rage.
I’ve known it once.
For a good decade
I’d say
The purest of
Rage

Mine had grown
Deeper.
Deeper.
But silent.

I was ready

For the aftermath
She was still
Fighting it.
So,
I stared at my ceiling
And wondered if
I was a romantic
Or a coward
An idiot
Or a simple
(Ageing)
Realist

There was beauty in her
Beauty

It was true

Beauty I could not explain.
Let alone grasp.
I don’t know
If any men
Ever will.
I looked at her
And almost saw Spain
Barcelona

The red and black

Days of 36

I know I took my chips
Off the table
Simple as that
I folded

Without even a shot

She was most definitely a wolf
I was most definitely not.

To the Fool Who Had Stopped Looking (Poem)

“Does he know he’s in trouble?” I asked her.
“What do you mean?”
Was her answer.

“You got new boots,
New hair,
New beanie,
Eyeliner and
you’re fucking
dressed to kill.”

She hadn’t even noticed.

Or maybe she had
And it was just nice
To have someone
Tell you
To have someone
See you
Again

She smiled
And for a second
There was happiness in her eyes

I hadn’t seen that
In a while
And it was good

“But it’s not even that,” I continued
“What is it?” she insisted

“There’s that glare in your eye
Like you’re tired
Of being invisible
To someone
Who’s taking you
For granted
And
And being taken
For granted
Is a terrible
Terrible
Thing to feel
Like

So you decided
You had enough
And decided
You deserve
To exist
Again
Fuck him.
You gave enough
And you’re right.”

She smiled
And laughed
That single burst
That just comes out
When you haven’t
Laughed in too long
And it was good

I looked at where
He might
Or might
Not be
Out by the front door
Or drowning in the river
It didn’t matter much right now.

“If he doesn’t notice he’s losing you,” I said.
He’s a fucking idiot.”

And he was a fucking idiot.