Poem: Love In Exile


Not seeing you,

Is like being in exile,

Shut out from all that I love –

Everything that makes me sing out in

Sighs, and believe in brighter skies


What can I say of you that I have not said

Already? What forgotten fragment of my

Heart must I still bleed out for you to sample

And taste – words dug up from the very ground

Of my being, my core, my marrow,

Chosen in haste?


Could these words ever illuminate your heart?

Could these words ever fill you with trust?

Could these words ever make you flutter towards

Me, without your inevitably having to flutter away



I think about moving on –

But how can I move on from Heaven?

How can I recover from these third degree

Burns after being subsumed in the fire of your

Love? How can I move on from an immovable

Beauty that coronates my days with rays of

Meaning I could never have previously fathomed?


I cannot move on from you –

Only closer to you –

Like a ship sailing towards the sun,

I will keep on sailing ahead into those golden

Flames, until I perish, Icarus-like, in those

Fiery waves


There are so many memories I would like to share –

So many crowning moments, immortalized in the

Art Gallery of my imagination. But I cannot share them.

The eyes of the world are upon me, and I cannot share them.


So, instead, I must coil myself in allegory, soliloquy,

And vague, hopeful allusions, cloaking myself in an

Obscurity that wants to tear itself open and scream:





But would you be able to hear me?

Would you be able to sense my intensions

Through the dense barriers of perfection

That separate you from me?


I am on the outside. But, sometimes, when we

See, we feel, we touch, we dream together, I feel

That inviolable membrane become more permeable –

And our two worlds become one, opening up a whole

Geography of imagination that could never exist without

Us both –


Don’t you want to see those landscapes with me?

Don’t you want to see what only you and I can see?


Press your third eye to mine, darling –

Feel the thrill as our thoughts mingle –

Two imaginations inseminating eachother,

Embryos flourishing into pregnant dreams

Which give birth to Heavens, to Joys –

To the redemption of all pain and loss


But, when you are gone, all of that goes away –

My bandages are torn off; my suppurating wounds

Exposed to the infectious dark –

My imagination loses its magic,

My life loses purpose,

My world sheds dimensions like falling leaves,

My heart aches – my truth grieves


What wounded and wounding truth!

Did truth know it would come to this?

Did my soul know that, in meeting you,

It would be scarred, destroyed, and enlivened,

Irreversibly, irreparably, immortally?


Of course it did.

This whole thing was a set-up from the start:

Just how far can we push Reuben? That’s what

We want to know! This bastard’s been too slow –

We need to throw this Queen of a Curveball into

His vena cava to get him back on track again!


And throw they did.

How many times have I died since I met you?

How many mental-breakdowns have I had since

I began prostrating offerings at your sacrificial

Altar? And so many more on the way!



Where will we go, darling?

Africa, India, Tibet?

I don’t care where we go.

You are my world. And I can

Travel further just through looking

In your eyes, than I could via any

Vehicle in the world –


Your love is the wings of a swift –

The agony of an albatross –

The stardust of space –

Your love is the contentment of Death

After a Life well-lived –

Your love is my universe –

It is my Weird – it is the omnipotent

Force that propels me from one day

To the next


Your love has given me the courage

To slay demons – and to love demons –

To face god – and to become god –

To dream – and to realize the dream –


Your love is the pulse that pumps me

Beatingly, through Eternity’s veins



So don’t go away –

Don’t leave me to clot –

Don’t leave me in this forgotten

Exile, the last member of a species

Most don’t even realize still exists


But I would like you to know –

I would like you to know everything

About me – to be the privileged archivist

Of my mind, classifying and categorizing

My every last paroxysm and prayer, loving

The changes and stages of strangeness even

I have yet to caress.


Please, let me in –

I don’t care how many steps I must tread –

How many bodies and lives I must shed –

I would lose all it is possible to lose if

Your love I could finally gain


If I succeed, people will write odysseys about

Us – our love will be a legendary love –

The Twelve Labours of Hercules are just the

Aperitif –I have far more painful realities

To awake, treacherous trials to undertake, before

I finally can unhappiness unmake


Then I will do it.

I will sit on that electric chair –

And as that Throne of Death pumps volts

Of relief through my being, I will know that

It was all worth it –

Just to have known you at all

Just to have known you at all



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