For six months we looked at houses
like they could talk to us.

A duplex, new construction,
two blocks from a community garden,
said My builders had extra marble
lying around! They didn’t want to cart
those heavy slabs back to the warehouse!
The floors squeaked when we stepped inside,
but we could always walk barefoot.

A cute older cottage on 22nd Street
held some promise, but despite
the new kitchen, the inspection
report read, This house is falling down
around the new kitchen.
It was on a double lot. There was plenty
of room for camping outside, as necessary.

The perfect Bungalow home called to us
from a quiet block off Dancy Street.
It called, I’m way overpriced!
The next week it called, I’m taken!

We placed a bid on a refab on 37th,
a lovely stone affair that resided
in the flood plain, unsold for some
months, thinking, Time is money.
The owners replied,
Money is money too.

On a cul-de-sac where children play,
we found a beautiful new house
with a front wall of glass.
I grew up on a cul-de-sac.
I have many happy memories,
mostly of running away
after well-hit softballs
punctured glass windows.
The house said, I’m still here.
You’re still here. We need each other.
My wife said,
I think we should see
other houses.

For six months we looked at houses
like they could talk to us.
We carted our baby through the half-packed
lives of strangers,
placed her on kitchen floors
with plastic toys to chew on,
and pretended,
while we watched her,
we were home.

Saul Nadatas last blog post..House Talk

So much to so many
Now taken away.

Barren and cold is this new world,
A bleak adaptation of its former vitality

Morning breaks now, not with a song,
But with a sob.

you always
why do you always
on these journeys
at this point

so startling
sudden
lift me up
shining

like spray in the face
tingling
jewel-blue
ocean over Banora

————————————-

I actually got the last two lines first. They were one at that stage.

This is a bit different from how I’ve been writing of late. I’m conscious of having been influenced by Rianon and Pearl – which will probably shock them both, as they are so different from each other and this is not an imitation of either. Also it would have been influenced by the fact that I was reading Lorca for the “inspiration” assignment.

John: This really says it all about married love, which encompasses contradictions and duty and other commitments and the dailiness of life and just plain tiredness … and remains steadfast. Which is in fact much like the Biblical definition of “charity”. You’ve created all that on the page (er, screen) at least for this reader.

Your my color
I’m only half a body
without you
my tears are empty
If you don’t touch me
what’s the use
my clossets full of clothes
that I’ll never wear

I’m not fat free
but only 125 lbs
I’m not a beauty
but your girl next door
your my only friend
my best friend
your my only paper
my diary

Without you
I’m nothing
without you this place
looks like a grave yard
my words mean nothing
if your not the ears listening
my life is full of people
but your the only one

I hope it hasn’t been too long
my heart is unfernished
no one knows me
like you know me
I just hope it isn’t too late
to say I want you
to say I love you
to say I’m nothing without you

Please don’t forsake me
stay with me
don’t let me go
don’t watch me stray
I’m on my knees
I’m in the dirt, the grime
my tears are dark
my body messed

I’m desheveled and empty
I just hope it isn’t too late
to say I want you
to say I love you
to say I’m nothing without you

I hope it isn’t too late