New Painting and Poem: The Writer

The Writer (2009, oil on wood)

The Writer

In the provocative black and white photo
You express mystery and passion and vulnerability
In the painting with shades of blue
You face the canvas and smile for me.

Surrounded by novels and histories and poetry
Moleskines and legal notebooks all over the bed
Black-rimmed reading glasses in your hand
Visions and nightmares gestating in your head.

And my god your body what a figure, gorgeous and free
To go with such an expansive mind and beautiful heart
I cannot touch you in the here and now, so I paint.
For our new and intense friendship, a fitting start.


© fprm, 2009

New Poem: The Bookstore

The Bookstore

The bell on the opened door announces my presence,
and the smells of old paper and freshly brewed French Roast
confirm that I am home.

Quietly but excitedly, I begin to explore the stacks,
seeking prose poems by Baudelaire, biographies of Gauguin, and
Gibbon's epic history of Rome.

And you sit silently behind your desk,
black-rimmed glasses on your head, intense and alone,
pondering your next tome.

You peacefully acknowledge my silent passion,
with slight smile and raised eyebrow, and
confirm: I am home.


© fprm, 2009

10-9-2009

Alone in a Bar

Alone at the Bar

alone at the bar
left my conscience at home
eyes scanning vampire-like in the darkness
on the streets where i roam

this is what happens
when you are not around
this is what happens
when there is no you to love
no you to undress
no you to drink my wine
no you to embrace
no you to throw off the pearls

when the odds of you sliding into my bed
are borderline slim to nil
i seek worthy proxies
i seek meaningful thrills

but let’s be honest
they are not what i seek
without you in my bed
it’s just time to kill.

New Poem

Ruminations

Hearing thunder and pounding rain
I sit in the dark room
Bourbon in one hand
Cigar in the other
Alone

And I think of what my world
Finally opening up to me
Would be like if
Suddenly you were
Gone

It wouldn’t matter what type of absence
Just that you weren’t there
No more letters
No more calls
Done

The idea of not being able to embrace you
Or you not on my lap in the chair
Or never bringing you coffee
Or not smelling your
Hair

In that dark moment, it’s too much to bear
Because, while there may be others
They are not you, my dear
And while far away, you are always
Near

But the thought is fleeting
And I am never really afraid
In your friendship I am at peace
In your love, I have
Faith


fprm

8-29-09