Mark Heathcote Poems

What is there to shelve but our memories?
At first, we fill a dozen albums a year
Seems easy; like teaching knowledge at Emory's
But as age surpasses our smooth veneer
...

I have a tear, that will be mine forevermore
But it won't fall… it's been there frozen
In my tear duct waiting for a meltdown pour
But it won't be moved, not even for you, my cousin.
...

Who wants to beat up on the moon?
Place another purple clustered crater
On it soon
Who wants to take a piece out of me?
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My eyes they’re bleeding
In an internal centrifugal force
You won’t see the blood
I’m just too coursing to bleed…
...

Reeling in pain, blue air
what do I care?
Joy is a figment just as deep as despair.
...

There is a turning of the tides
But all I want to do is be with you
In the shivers when you blush.
All I want to do is be with you
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You take your brushes ghost painters
What is your reason?
I hear a crashing of cymbals.
Are you an artist who bleeds in sepals?
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I've got a granite heart
But recently it's been like putty too.
So I'm mixed up and confused
And I don't know now just what to do.
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Will I know life and death in paradise?
Will I feel hunger and thirst?
Will I experience warmth even when I'm cold?
Will, I shed tears of happiness when I'm dead?
...