I'm no throw me over--and have no juliet.

I'm just going to post a few poems this time and spare the conversation for most of you. Please, at least tell me what you think about them or something. That's what I put this up here for--to get people's reactions to them.

Ignore the lines of periods in this one because I couldn't get it to stay in that spot=lame.

Deep Sea Diver

Cloudy day, smoke stacks
brothered in the moment--
at once companioned
all seeming sans couleur.
Eyes blinking, flashing lights
trickle through, snailing.

He was bait
and tackled
by her love

But
..............It

..........................................Left.

Those ocean-steady
advances that drew him,
sketched full of springtime,
in--over cloudy day
empty-handed prospects--
turned salty. Davy Jones.

--tim

to always smiling, to wanting to end up like jason shwartzman's character at the end of shopgirl, to the search for mother molloy, to dancing to a good song and not caring, to staredowns, to late night arrested development, to getting a package filled with new life, to being completely involved, to the throwing off of clothes on a whim, to live-I am. To everything that is in her.

Conversion

1.

Water condenses to
cloud and it's all
bed sheets.
Wrists bound with
leather. Bubble feeling in
fur and birth
blankets of connection.

It took hours to hatch,
that soft first breath
dawning civilizations
of the new--diffidence
couraged into success.

Each beat pillowed by
its coupling. Those
full-naked joys
meadow in warmth.

2.

Scrambling for
notes that highlight
the search, he says,
throw me over
but says no words.
Finding bits of her
in everything.
Trying to rebuild.
Repeated names
out of regret.
Uttered hopes--
I'll reach you soon glory.

Even after explosions
of rapture
he's left searching
through other failures.

Try to get back
Find her again.

3.

Deaf to the thunder's speech,
penses de lésinant,
searching through the
cold empty folds
to find a distanced
object whose size one
knows and desires.

Cultivated attention
fosters growth and
heavy beats intrude
again--protruding a smile.

Bathing in the unattainable
to wash away the wallow
is almost substitute
not the supplement.

--tim

some haiku, senryu, and renga

4.50 she said
when I remembered that I
lost my last quarter

Christmas finally--
interrupted with you'll shoot
your eye out kid.

3:27
am donut cravings
thwarted by the cops

trying to catch the
elevator, I hit the
closing doors

Signing a death wish
always less stressful
when you run out of ink.

attempted funny renga about awkward dates

left step
wasn't my gum
sticky shoes

couldn't get out

of the awkward

loose laces stuck
his shoes on pavement
he trips

this date is stuck
already looking sketchy

words muttering
to a flow
until it's shut

he gets the shakes
on constant stares

shaking hands
new eyes connect
always awkward

slamming door sounds
empty car.

empty glasses
on the table
serious mistakes

looking into the glass
intently searching

late night dance
moves too serious
cause ripped crotches

hair flies everywhere
to the beat, whiteboy.

an awkard date
fathered by a
cheap haircut.

that's probably enough. I'll stop here.

love