until the dawn

it is the nights
that are most difficult

waiting
wanting

for the morning
that brings your voice

it is the nights
that are long

sleepless
restless​

hoping for a world
where 1+1=1

it is the nights
it is the nights
it is the nights

when darkness
grips my heart

renders me incapable

until the dawn
returns you to me

d. james

the infinity of one

quiet now
in the small hours
of the morning

with the heart
and mind
aligned

peaceful now
as the new day
dawns

and everything
seems as one
in the vast expanse

is it a straight line
from our ancestors
to now

or is there a circle
that completes each moment

are we really alone
in this world

or surrounded
by the billions
who came before
and since

(D James)

urban scrawl

this thing strung together making no sense yet kept writing these words and not even thinking letting them flow and trying to keep up like in life when everything moves at the speed of sound and people keep moving and I seem to be in the way, slower than everyone else feeling tired and left behind it all seems a bit too much maybe I’m still on west coast time or it could be that I’m no longer interested in the rushing and running, the pushing and shoving, shouldering my way through life trying to get in front of the person in front of me assholes behind me kicking at the backs of my shoes, knocking them off skittering across the platform as the E train rushes out of the station and the next group of followers gathers in the station, and on to the next thing, the one after the one right before this one, how can anyone make sense of the world anymore when people start conversations in e-mail and end them in text, and no one, no one, answers the phone any longer, why can’t this rant end? because there are no endings and no beginnings, there’s just all this rushing around in the middle and when I go, and when you go, there will still be 6 billion and more on the planet to take up where we left off, and there is no reason for it, no meaning – it all is and it all isn’t and we’re here to sort out what it means to us now, and then we’re gone. And the sun will rise and the sun will set, and the sun will rise and the sun will set …

(D. James)

cycles

out the kitchen window
the late afternoon light
plays like a sax solo
against the building
across the way

cloud wisps
catch pink
as the sun hits
the horizon

the azure sky
goes darker
by degrees

evening comes
stealth and still
like a beautiful lover
passionate, intense

another night
lies ahead
awaiting the dawn

(D. James)

should have been over awhile ago

here’s where
we get to that part
of the night

closer to dawn
than dusk

when the cars
rubber by
less frequently

and your
eyelids
will not
cooperate

everyone else
is long down

nothing
but the hum
of the refrigerator
to keep you company

and that last car
rolling past your window

won’t be another till dawn

best to wait for it
under the covers

if you’re lucky
it’ll go by
unnoticed

if you’re not
it won’t

(D. James)

wanting more than the gods will allow

waiting
the night out

feeling
my way
in the dark

hoping
the morning
won’t come
this one time

keeping
the fantasy
of being with you
longer than just tonight
alive for one more hour

as light
lines
the horizon

I take
one last look
and like Eurydice
you vanish before my eyes

(D. James)

nothing between us

in the silence
before dawn
I breath in
the scent of skin

rub the nape
of your neck

run my hand
along
your waist
to the pale belly

you roll over
stare straight
into me

seeing
who I really am

not who I project
to keep the world
at bay

but who
I want to be

who I am
when it’s safe

you smile,
revealing
your true self

I don’t know
if you do that
with others

but to me
you are always
an open door

inviting me
to step through

and I’m curious
what, if anything,
I do for you

(D. James)

burn for you

wanting
to burn
for another

feel
her missing
from the sheets
when she’s away

be
in the warmth
of a gaze

wake
in the silence
before sunrise

stare
at her body
lying in wait

get lost
in the smell
of her hair

pull
her to me
knowing
that’s always
what she wants

(D. James)

the last poet

When the night
is over

and the final
cigarette
has been smoked

what will
the last poet
say

After all
the evoked emotion
failed relationships
dead boyfriends
abortions
abusive parents
drugs and alcohol

laughter
and pain

have been spilled
out
in some cases
artfully vomited

what could
this last poet
have to say

How to summarize
this night
these words
life sentences
bad grammar

poetic license
driven to excess

How to follow
the girl who told
of losing all her hair

the guy who
crashed his car

the gay biker
who longs
to be dominated
by a she-wolf
of the SS

the boy
who lost
his virginity
so late

the girl
who lost hers
so early

the words
of so many
who want change
yet stay
right where they are

What can this last
motherfucker
have to say
that can top the
triumphs
tragedies
surprises
sorrows

What will
the last poet
leave us with

as we file
out of this
basement grotto
into the light
of dawn

Do we expect
too much
as he steps to the microphone

the crowd
too drunk
to hush

even the white
of the spot light
seems a bit dingy
as he steps into it’s shaft

The last poet
will speak the
last poem

and we will leave
to sleep it off

Whatever he says
will be the final word
so our expectations
are far too high

The last poet
poor fucker
has nowhere to go
but down

unless he’s more genius
than genius itself
more brilliant
than all of us

The last poet
clears his throat
touches his lips
to the mic

the wait
has us spellbound
and half-hopeful

Even so
when we wake
in the afternoon
hungover and
full of piss

will we remember
any of this

(D. James)

nightrider

The half-moon laughs
as we tear up the road
screaming at the night

With nothing but chrome
and black gloss
we ride ’til dawn

Our piece of heaven
forged in hell
hanging with the
fallen angels

And when the sun rises
we’ll put another night
to rest

(D. James)