The Ant Colony Sure is Busy Today

I tap on the glass. Frozen. Cold. near opaque. I can see you & you can see me, but hear we cannot. We each rub the glass with our sleeves & press our faces against the glass. Separated by just a double pain. Separation is pain. Double pain.   Hours melt away, frozen as we gesticulate a silent conversation. We get everything except touch & sound this way. They are missing. They are missed. I breathe on the cold glass to fog it & Write you a lovenote. Love symbols… represent love words… emergent from love  G E S T I C U L A T I O N S. You are ever enough & eternally beautiful. I see your sparks amid the frozen. You see my sparks amid the frozen, but separated, our sparks cannot melt the tundra that surrounds.  I will wait patiently for you, for the door to open. For the glass to shatter. For our flames to converge, again.  Please don’t give up on me.  I will never give up on you.  I will be here....

Lay me down From purgatory bound Worse than hell Take me to the river Take me down Down to the river to pray I’ll get on my knees I’ll beg and I’ll plea Just don’t keep me here In purgatory town I can’t handle this penance It’s too harsh for my sentence So lay me down From purgatory bound Take me away From purgatory town Living, reliving, horrors of old I think I deserve not to be cold My soul, not for sale, never sold So lay me down Don’t let me drown Here in purgatory town .

On the nights you lost your shadow… These nights made us. A million times over, I would do it thus… I wrote you plays & songs & stories The origin of storytime, as it were . For me they weren’t in-length, shorties   But I know, for you ‘twas only a blur . Peter Pan needed Wendy to mend his shadow with stitches It does what it wants while her body twitches Writhing, reeling, & losing control, doth the perilous fight Hang on, hold fast, carry on; I think she just might ‘Twasn’t you, but your shadow I had gotten that night ‘Lest we forget the pen be mightier than the sword Stories can be tools, sometimes weapons in their own right Oh how I wish you could bail, just pull a ripcord Your face, became his face, appeared stricken with blight I was, am, always your Wendy, shall be writ in our lore Sometimes it got lonely, storytime for just me But I knew you were there, underneath acts of gore I knew you were listening, despite lack of glee From whence the host-woman cometh ?...