Angels Bear With Me

Angels Bear With Me is how I preface every syllable in my head before I speak – or decide not to, and stare straight ahead at the road unfolding in front of me, or the countryside out the window and reflected in rear-view mirrors

Angels bear with me is the prayer I say each night as I wake from after-work naps to sit ad take pen in hand and remember

Angels bear with me is my thought each time I sit on the unvacuummed floor and stare at frays as I tell through speech and action, and ink of my life in foreign countries and drunk, and dirty with blind rage in the streets of Florida years before I was born.

Angels bear with me is my heartbreak sound with each stitch coming out clean in my mind, presented in image and the smell of heureuse

Angels bear with me
as I’ve said all this before
in other cities
and other times

Angels bear with me
through your silverthought remembrances
of whitewalled rooms
feet up
on the sill
wet from Florida rains
falling like sand

Bear with me during this genesis two
of rapturous night filled starsky
and bluelit mornings from rooftops

Angels,
it all seems to happen on rooftops –
is that to be closer
to the land of your breath,
the land of your true vision,
the land away from underwater forests and streets and blurred sight?

Bear with me in my 5-year-odl glee at untapped memory senses with spring through sweat from fingers

Angels,
sometimes you timing’s just perfect

Bear with me in love with a life who makes you heart bleed sincerity though scars left unattended

Angels,
I dream of you every night,
my lips against that spot behind you left ear

Bear with me as the night sky comes enveloping with celestial howlings of the city