LOOKING AT THE MOON ALONE
How much is lost
before realizing
there’s no victory
in being the last
to weep...
_________________
A CONVERSATION WITH AN INSOMNIAC
There's never been a time
expectations.
Yes, suicide has been
a thought, but it's mostly
murder easing the mind—
a secret
best kept
in silence.
No sense
waking
the others.
SOMEONE TO KEEP YOU WARM
It’s always cold here.
Join me—
you’ll like it.
__________________
(They always look so tasty...)
—William S. Gainer
She post recipes
and shows pictures
of the finished dishes
on her Face Book page.
I think,
“What a wonderful way
to poison a friend,
or two...”
__________________
THE HAUNTING OF MOMENTS
—William S. Gainer
Like the ghosts
of the confessional
the moments whisper—
“You’re not here
to try to find
another place
to be...”
The moral question
is the killing itself.
How it’s done:
bombs,
bullets,
gas,
the needle,
noose,
starvation—
all matters
of ethics...
Two
very different
things.
_________________
THE TANGLE OF US
—Wm. S. Gainer
When the canyons
burn
and the clouds
weep low...
the grey
mixed
in itself
settles in you
weighing the heart
to memories
of sorrow
and missing
of days spent
inside yourself
waiting
for the sun...
_____________________
A JOINT IN OAKLAND—UPSTAIRS
—Wm. S. Gainer
You,
in Oakland,
in that
peach colored dress,
walking away—
it wasn't time
I was thinking about.
Today
I’d give it all
buy back
30 years...
to watch you
lost in the reflection
of a wine glass
looking for something
left behind...
___________________
THE GIRL UPSTAIRS
—Wm. S. Gainer
On the floor above
I hear her heels
click.
When the lights
are down
I can look up
see all the things
she tries to hide...
__________________
Oil rubbed
against my scalp.
Coconut sheath taut to
spinal cord, wrapped in golden sleek.
Nerve wisps.