& if shame by David McLean

a pointless except to remember, because pain is a deft teacher – & evil & wrong just a bad, an obnoxious. & a pillow is razors & offensive – here are the slow gods, their tedious prayer a huge forgiveness. night is a truculent vampire inside me, & day a fighting dog happy. here we assemble a huge absence, a dead flower. time is a cigarette in my pregnant fingers, i stub it into nothing; it is not important. you are whatever eternity is &, i can save existence for your every instant.

here is a great silence arrogant as absence – words are scissors & innocence, & i can tell you, Emma, where every god is always missing there is no such thing as distance – the world folds a caterpillar, a cocoon – which is whatever it is that love is.

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between my ribs by David McLean

lives inexorable empty & only you there, & that only fragments & dust. every temporary being we shed like skins no longer needed because they have forgotten their meanings. the sun is in the heaven her psychotic dance – she moves so slow i barely notice & light is there for hurting. thus here is the abject, the leaf in me arrogant as every other answer ever.

still you protect me from morning & its swords, its murders, the psychopath sun. i might say i contain multiplicities once, but i am Celt so none of them get on very well together & we only want to burn down the world & zombie dentistry, illusions &, to sing love ugly & very much out of tune. 

between my ribs every word forgotten. there is a terribly patient suffering, it waits for the sun to come back, it is the same maybe in everyone i do not know. (if a tit happens to fly into a room it will panic, it will fly around beating itself against the walls until its little heart stops, so one must move fast like an animal & catch it in one’s hand feeling its tiny heart thunder & let it free under the innocent sky to hope it lives forever.) 

between my ribs i have forgotten me & there is only you, Emma, my shame & the nightmarish affirmation Nietzsche said is the only thing that really matters. i say “yes” “yes” & “yes” to every suffering there ever was in me its optimistic eternity. “yes”, Emma, forever & again. it hurts to love you, but there is nothing better.

rowing by David McLean

it might have been Anne’s terrible rowing
going nowhere 

under the ice, under the water –
it might have been new oceans, 

Emma, scars & Bodhidharma dancing –
everywhere else is absence

..

Details of David McLean’s various books % chabooks at http://mourningabortion.blogspot.com/ & http://davidcmclean.wordpress.com/. A ninth full lenght is due from Antiseptic Press & called EMMA FOREVER. These poems are from that book http://podphotopodmore.wixsite.com/antiseptic

Emma today by David McLean

Emma today i ascended to you,
a tiny frog crossing a road
hopeful.

i do not care that god is
nowhere, i have you to dream
meaning in me 

instead of worthless
freedom. your fingers
live behind my eyes:

it is time

..

Details of David McLean’s various books % chapbooks at http://mourningabortion.blogspot.com/ & http://davidcmclean.wordpress.com/. A ninth full length is due from Antiseptic Press & called EMMA FOREVER. These poems are from that book http://podphotopodmore.wixsite.com/antiseptic

& always you by David McLean

there is this anxious night & always you i cannot precisely see. Emma i wait as always & love is in me a helicopter, a bizarre computer, a remote control. beauty is not my fault & i am a naked man trudging through snow & happy are the fires that burn distances, the slow rise of the sap to leaf the trees a meaning.

i need you a diagram an equation to show me the precise possibility of love & jungle. here is your word, Emma, here is the anxious that cripples us, night & dust. i forgot i do not wait, we wait together & you must give me your anxious like an innocent illness so i can return it love to make it taste like nothing, the most lovable perfectly normal everyday suffering.

& you are the best of me forever, my blood my marrow, the idiot scars over my gray & damaged skin & whatever it is in them that still listens. i raise my finger to my lips & give it to this sacred wind to tell me your broken, your heart which is home & love was always you – the wind will not let me live my ignorance & it sings Emma, Emma forever.

you dance my absence – i do not exist apart from text except that i love you, not words but blood & heart.

..

Details of David McLean’s various books % chapbooks at http://mourningabortion.blogspot.com/ & http://davidcmclean.wordpress.com/. A ninth full length is due from Antiseptic Press & called EMMA FOREVER. These poems are from that book http://podphotopodmore.wixsite.com/antiseptic

My Blogspot. & my WordPress.

too much human, chapbook & antinatalist manifesto from Black Editions

of desire & the desert, poems from Black Editions

passion is dead flesh, chapbook from Black Editions

Henrietta remembers, novel from Oneiros Books

flesh & resurrection, novel from Oneiros Books 

nobody wants to go to heaven but everybody wants to die, poems from Oneiros Books

things the dead say, poems from Oneiros Books

of desire & the lesion that is the ego, poems from Oneiros Books

Zara & the ghost of Gertrudepoems from Oneiros Books

if i were to sleep by David McLean

if i were to sleep i would not care where the monster might come to take me unless there were parts of dolls broken, a furnace & an innocence. mad Abby spreads discarded batteries everywhere, she is wearing her heaven sown together from frightened children & dead men, she is made of guns & love & does not give a shit about what words is.  i wish we could all exist