Krister Axel

I thought to buy you a trinket
to express the warmth in my heart for you.
Some small token that might find a home
next to your bed.
There were toys, lawn-gnomes
and rocking chairs
swaying in the cold April wind.
This life falls short of you
in my fleeting paradise beneath the spotlight
I remain incomplete. There is more
to my dream than was planned
I did not mean to love you
without my kingdom in place
I have no control.
Not over this grey morning
or the way the sun shines
not over my heart
which knows only your name
I found nothing to offer you but myself
and this handful of rain
tears from the Kansas City sky
symbols of a love
eternal

written from the road in Missouri, summer 2006

original title:

'Lavinia, Lavinia, Lavinia, Howsoever Beatest Thine Heart Among the Divinities Shall Ye Be Remembered, Lavinia'

I work on Sunset now
where dreams die and take shape
where highways are twisted at the throat
of the green that once was
sometimes with more choice
comes less freedom
more sugar in place of food
sirens for a handshake
bright lights casting longer shadows
soon the earth will erupt
and reshape the landscapes
in her likeness
to invade the invaders
with mountains for fingers
she brushes the cities
from her brow. As if
to invent a simple fabric
between God and Man
she turns over
her bed

I leave you in your perfect circle
you left me where I couldn’t cross
grateful for my piece of sunshine
but knowing how much more is lost.
Everyone comes up together
everyone goes down alone
with half a life to run away
and barely time to find a home.
Somehow we have made our peace
dodging the forms of our skeptic souls
I think tonight no one will bleed
and then perhaps no one grows old.
With simple words we scale a sonnet
balanced, all our hopes upon it.

God I’ve waited for this
The rush of sounds this madness
Of purpose in such perfect stealth
And when I understand the greatness
Of this world in simple terms
The presence of kindred spirits
Moments of authenticity
The birth of a revolution

A dog barks at the morning prayer
and the sky remembers everything

the smoke-filled houses
leaned against each other
the wild green hand of nature
clutching at humanity. Go ahead
and die, says the world
we will not find you
in your toothpick temples
eating rice and leaves. Your children
are not lucky enough to feel
the breath of medicine.
There is no love to spare.