And sometimes love isn’t
enough and sometimes love
is too much and
sometimes love is just
enough and sometimes love
is just sometimes love
I can’t separate my
passion from my love
nor my love from
my passion just like
you can’t separate the
heat from the sun
from the clouds that
produce rain or the
cold that turns summer
into fall sometimes some
things can’t be one
thing without being another
which is why my
dear Bean it’s best
for both of us
to be absolutely nothing
now to each other
for being absolutely nothing
is always going to
be easier than something
Category: Bean
Hands
I remember your hands
as they held mine
I remember feeling them
sudsy and warm under
the tap as we
washed in the kitchen
I remember noticing them
wind their way through
my hair turning my
face towards your kiss
I remember your hands
slipping free from mine
that last and final
time that we parted
Bean’s
And away he is
home or somewhere else
as precious as home
where he was raised
and where memories remain
He is of land
of earth and tree
of animal and sun
All gods to him
to which he prays
and takes and uses
thanks and is grateful
his world’s not mine
mine is of words
his is of work
Mango (for Bean)
And a brown skinned
lad wandered away from
his house and towards
his home leaving his
family to search for
that which he sought
A very specific mango
tree which stood precisely
where he’d planted it
To this brown skinned
lad this tree said
home more than any
other place for its
roots were indeed his
TooJustTooToo
I think that I’m
too different too different
than most too different
that I become impossible
I think that I’m
better off alone alone
just with me me
and my thoughts thoughts
that carry me beyond
my own impossibility to
a place of comfort
where I am and
can think too differently
differently than almost everyone
everyone except me naturally
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 