CASTLE GARDENS
newman
- 1 -
it
always goes
so:
day by day
until there are no
more days left
in which to be saved
by fear or love or even
by the grace of god
- 2 -
sleep is no peaceful calling
the program isn't that easy
regardless of what you've heard
and what you think
nobody dreams here
grace carries a premium
even though it's free
rapture is reserved for the precious few
like love everlasting
nobody ducks deceit who practices it
and we have practiced to perfection dear heart
seduction is more our line
temptation our metier
rhapsodies in flesh tones
and scriptures in skin
nobody escapes
gentle angel [not even you]
even though you do your best
longing for a release you cannot find within
and no matter what you do
nobody includes you
delicate sister
guidebooks deceive some but
you have an instinct
depend on no one but yourself
know your way around
even though you're new here
my situation is less secure
[everyone knows this is so]
writing it down for posterity
gathering sensation
taking in what sensibility is available
erasing what history I can
remembering what I must
saving the best
nobody refuses the offer
suspect though it may be
unless they've been here
thickhead grin in place
nobody accepts defeat
or claims victory
unless they want to leave
regardless of the cost
the price of admission was sin
[foreign currency accepted]
denial notwithstanding
evasion nonetheless
or any juicy little tidbit
you have saved for this rainy day
non-negotiable reality
esoteric images aside
neverending shadows in your eyes
the price of departure is virtue
religiously applied
eternally sworn
torn from your heart
your soul in some state of karmic zen
entering soft as death
turbulent as birth
- 3 -
and the sky is filled with stars
like the sea is filled with salt
like the desert is filled with sand
I close my eyes to avoid confusion
[nothing helps]
passing my ghandi visions
lying in wait
agonizing over nothing in particular
carelessly turning down one opportunity after another
even the money-in-your-pocket sure things
negligent to the nth degree of perfection
or meticulous past the point of distraction
there must be more than this I whisper to myself
how do you figure? you ask
[I have no answer]
never question faith I say
guarding my back while you circle
in smiling silence
nothing happens
[or if it does I am unaware]
reclaiming my past makes it all the more difficult
denial makes it simply impossible
eager to please you I defer
regardless: you go your way
some say I should do the same
take my cues from that starry sky
despite my past failures
[not that they let me forget them]
some say I should be different
take my cues from you
roll with the punches
some say I should do nothing
[not that that hasn't occurred to me]
for this or that reason
knowing nothing
related to my love for you
you say nothing
even though you know I'd listen
some say something different
every time the subject is brought up
to no end I can discover
even though they want me to stay
relative quiet prevails
yearning remains
- 4 -
I fall back on the old ways
supposing they will save me
I dream of living in peace
think about my childhood
trust in memories that might be lies
how do you avoid this?
always so calm
tranquil in the midst of my fury
inspite of my frenzy
too much history
in too little time
sabotage in familiar camouflage
tearing at my bones
hollowing my nights
arguing my days
touching me where no one ever has
I cannot take much more
touching me where I cannot
inspite of my defenses
so you ask where to now?
old ways only seem safe
religion superstition science
insanity waiting to make an entrance
soft lies buttressing hard truths
in its own sweet time
too much history
never lived outside my head
on the low road to salvation
too little time
to confront the cracked mirror
however you measure it
and in the end?
the end
it's that simple
torturous rewards
in foreign currencies
served up on silver platters of deceit
nervously tendered by angels of despair
ordinary people with glass wings
turning their eyes away from me
turning deaf ears my way
heaven bent on my salvation
against my will
turning their backs to me
in silent desperation
trusting
intuition
suspecting
nothing
or simply
taking me home the long way around
- 5 -
turning it over in my mind
or turning my back on it
or not
my history surrounds me
[understanding makes no difference]
caressing my thin flesh
hovering just too far away to touch
too close to ignore
or avoid
or deny in last gasp desperation
sublimating the deception
only as far as I can see
or you can tell
[nobody cares now do they?]
turning it over in my mind
or turning its insides out
or front to back
little is accomplished
I hesitate once too often
turn the other cheek
turn the other cheek
like I am somehow holy
even in this place
too much happens that I cannot explain
or excuse
or extinguish
lovingly obsessed as I am
[am I or am I kidding myself?]
turning this into that
excuses nothing
- 6 -
it always goes so:
we can touch one another
gently and with love
or we can
touch one another
fearfully
the
choice is
ours
