oh, renoir

things we will never do and things we will never have. always running against the time clock are we. for even if time linear, circular, or wave in structure, it still only precedes and proceeds in one direction. would i shed a tear for you? would thine eye? mine eye has seen the glory of cumming. azure brother of the spring shall blow. peppermint lips sticky and sweet bespoken on the back of a car. sitting squarely on the boot, licking it, a leg propped up on the fender bumper. the fickle innocence of a child. the innocent fickleness of a child. i forgive you for you know not what you do. i forgive you for "no." a last embrace, a last kiss, a last handhold. what is so terribly unbearable about last is lasting. last is only ever true in a physical, spatial-temporal sense. lasting is always. everything is always already lasting, recognized or not. the possibility of again. the possibility of a door left unlocked, left partially open even. a spilled cup of coffee. the emotional imprecision of bagpipes in cold mo(u)rning. always conjuring fog in the mind, if not in the terra. no more familiar faces. only strangers, traces.

"I had my hopes of how I would be
After living in exile,
After closing your eyes to me.
I even wrote scenes where I re-emerged boldly,
Bearded, alive and Eskimo eyed,
New baby on my back.
But I didn't count the fact that I have ghosts in my mind,
Stowaways,
Great ghosts of my life, great ghosts of old wives.
And they're howling!
So I spent my wilderness time
Pulling my hair and wrestling them off,
Yelling at no-one,
Punching snow.
I gathered ghosts and gave them a lecture,
I bid them away,
I pleaded and cried:
"There's no room in my life for you, or you or your howling!
Let me undo these ropes and go on living without you,
not just change where I live.
Oh go on, get!" I said.
I had my hopes, of how I would be after sending them off,
After getting set free.
But there's no such thing as living without their prowling.
As you can see, having descended the hill,
I still look like me,
I still wallow like Phil,
And forever will.
I'm teaming with ghosts and I'm still whining for wives,
Bidding my brow, but now I've surrendered.
In fact i've joined in.
Listen close...
You can hear us howling!"
--phil elvrum