Do you still love me, she asks
fragile moment, simple words
Fear and longing mingled like our breaths
hanging precariously in the air
...
Dawn
In my youth only seen as the end of the night
As a challenge to be faced in the hours
between last call and someone’s bed
...
I hate the beauty of the world
The moon, the stars, and all the spaces between
Hell is not a place, it’s an absence
And all the beauty just reminds me
...
I can laugh
It comes easy to me
And I smile readily enough
They say I have a nice smile
...
The parts you saved
were not the things you valued most
It was just the stuff that was close at hand
And the things you lost
...
Lets get lost
Lets run away
though there are no circuses left to join
We'll create our own
...
She moves across the heavens
passing Venus and Mars with her fingers crossed
Unbound by any laws known to Newton or Einstein
Eclipsing sun and moon
...
I try not to say her name
As if it held some power
To cast a spell
I don’t say it aloud
...
I think of all the different places we shared
So far from where I am now
...
Thinking about the thing with feathers that Emily spoke of so long ago
as she sat, alone, in her curtained room
...
Looking away from Eden's Gates
with a long road before me
and an empty place growing
where once there was... what?
...
I no longer live in Ocean Park
Though I am never far from that place
...
Ryan Cole was born in West Los Angeles, California, and raised in the canyons of the Santa Monica Mountains. His father is an artist, who taught him to see the world through an artist's eyes, to see the beauty in the mundane, and his mother gave him the gift of words.)
I Know Nothing About The Rain (With Apologies To T.S. Elliott,9/1/11)
Do you still love me, she asks
fragile moment, simple words
Fear and longing mingled like our breaths
hanging precariously in the air
People talk about the weather
To fill the savage spaces
Empty Silence, empty words
And we talk about the weather
What can I say
What do I know of the weather
Falling gently, scattered drops
What do I know of the rain
Do you still love me, she asks
In the interval between
What do I know of love
Falling gently, scattered drops
And in the rooms the women light as a feather
stand around talking about the weather
And I don't really know what to say
I know nothing about the rain