Thursday, December 6, 2007

In This Way of Love

Eric Bachman and Singleton, 2007

Butterfly of gold,
San Marina's own

She's so very free...

Always has been,
Always will be.

Wings stretched--
resting in a fold

she'll never fly

and will always
float with me.

Does she remember the dream...
the discovery that she made?
mermaids and
are one and all the
one for the sky
one for the sea

one in a heart's
midnight blue dream

"In this way of love is the balance kept"

they say that
butterflies only
live for a day
or the moment
and I can't
believe this is true
and mermaids
live forever
in the shadows
and the deep--
I can't believe this is true
so I'm sure they take turns
trading underwater dunes
for summer wind

"in this way of love is the balance kept"


Maithri said...

Tears fall from my heart

I love you both

Let the winds and the waves be one

Till the mermaids kiss the butterflies,

and all the children
of this


their finger painted

are free

Whispering love into heaven, M

singleton said...


I dreamed this...
were born
on the
glassy edge of the sea
at the very
in all their
fairytale glory
were set free,
the moment they
fingertips to the sky
and just for
for the first time
for the only time
broke the surface....

your children
will do the same....
Raise them up,
lift them,

And they'll

That's what angels do....


Princess Pointful said...

they say that
butterflies only
live for a day
or the moment
and I can't
believe this is true
and mermaids
live forever
in the shadows
and the deep--
I can't believe this is true

Love it love it love it.
I keep on trying to think of some way to hop onto the porch party, but the flow still needs work.

However, Eric, I am trying to follow your advice and at least remember the poetic lines that pop into my head.

Clink to you both!

karma lennon said...

I love this one so much.....what is it with butterflies lately? Reminds me of a girl who died my senior year of high school, not long after some people started seeing yellow butterflies, EVERYWHERE-knew it was her checking in. Working on something for fantastical, up soon.

singleton said...

you gotta write 'em down, scribble 'em on tabletops
telephone books
your arm....

even if you never come back to
read them again
there's something
so bonding to writing them
that they somehow feel
tethered to you,
like they belong....

Clink! To the flow, when the river runs, it will be a might one!

Wow! I love that! We came to believe in the yellow Butterfly of San Marino years ago....
and her spirit
dances on and on and on.....

Your writings on fantastical are so very very real, I feel like the words can almost be touched, have a life of their own!

Peace~love our friends

eric1313 said...


Glad you love our work, it's fun to write like this, with a friend who can converse in the rarest language.

I found this one, one of many, scribbled on the Hippie parade, back in August. There is so much great stuff there. It's hard to pick what to bring in next.

eric1313 said...


Any time, any line
anything you want to say, just type it in and step up. Even a hello could get it all going.


Same deal, if any of you come by and see the poems in progress, join in. Any line. Say it and watch us go. You'll step in just fine.

Rule number one of poetry club is don't talk about poetry club.

Kidding. I always wanted to write up bossy order like that just once, ever since Fight Club.

We won't collect the writings, they'll be here for you to use forever, like a note pad that stays on the internet and lots of people can use.

I've been writing poems like this for a while now and I love it.

eric1313 said...

And I just loved the picture. It went well with the lines.

You and your butterfly, Singleton. Making a drab world that much brighter.

eric1313 said...

"That was in a past life"
she said to me
while we walked--
balanced and tiptoed on top of the
brown steel seawall
that broke the waves
in sprays that occasionally
splashed the two of us,
a merciful relief
from the ever-rising heat.

"That was in a past life"
about the wars
in the kitchen,
or the ones abroad.
About the promises,
the forevers and the nevers
even the cold cash offered
to buy her dream
so it could die in cold hands that reek from the expirations
of those unlucky enough
to have known better.

"That was in a past life"
I typed each word like it was a novel.

it was a gift.

And I remember it like it was not
behind the purple velvet scrim of

singleton said...

I go dancing
with strangers
and friends
and come
to this....
the gift....

Clink! you my friend
and your words
pastel and black and white
all at once...

eric1313 said...

"Go back to sleep, my love"

I suddenly woke up from a sleep,
as she turned off the TV
me laying
on her couch
in her lap,
in about that area.

The night was retreating
brightening in shades
dark but light enough
to look up and see her
watching my every move
cradling my very life.

Her lips didn't move
but her eyes said
"Go back to sleep..."
and I closed my eyes
as I heard hers add
" love"

I breathed hope
and finally
slept in a fever,
slept in the fire.

The cars will still crash,
the poles will keep melting,
death and the taxman will
stay busy for a long while.

But one dream one pure vision,
one real enough to call my own
came to me while I slept.

Love is the easy part to a dreamer,
lying on a pillow called my love.

It's the art of falling asleep
that's the most telling detail
of a lover's soul.

singleton said...

He bought me a drink,
but I wasn't counting,
another one down
my pocket
his pocket
A Michelob light, please,
and then
asked for New Years Eve
in return,
a sorry tip,
and I laughed,
I'm already taken,
"I'm free"....

"But I would red wine you and
darling dine
limosine style,
buy you a little black dress
and breakfast.....
champagne and a dream
for a night"

I don't often spit in public,
or private
if that even matters,
but I
almost did,
the tainted beer bottomed up,
and the words,
sleeping snake curled on my tongue,
whisper hissed....
"Thank you,
but I already have
a little black dress"

singleton said...

Ooops! Sorry for the
guy really ticked me off!

you are on a
soulful roll....

the sea is churned
and phospherescent
with broken
still whole
in just
is tossed on
the shore....

a thousand miles
from the

free to
be glitter now....

eric1313 said...

That guy is ticking me off, too!

And it's you words!

But you write one heck of a tale. We both profit from this exchange, and I love seeing your art grow. It provides me with a measure of my own growth.

singleton said...

Story teller
indian legged
passing spirits
and smokes
and bigger than lifes
in a circle,
telephone tag
in a whisper,
the wind said,
the moon said,
the fire said it all....

singleton said...

on the highwire...
no net
no stopping now,
I fall,
ten thousand stories,
punchlines not yet told
and catch,
butterflies in a jolted net of time,
the trapeze.....

singleton said...

So I hold on
two fingers
for peace
for pinkie love
and almost let go,
too tired
of holding on
feeling the
crawling up to meet me half way
to eternity....

But the wind
turned her other cheek
and I
don't even hold on....
free to fly....

singleton said...

"in this way of love is the balance kept"

eric1313 said...

I love that line

You still there?

singleton said...

hey guy

eric1313 said...

Midnights lost
in the city
on the roads
in the lights
on the corner
in a bar
on the floor
in a taxicab ride home

Midnights freshly poured
a round for everyone

Midnights two-for-one
and everybody goes home
and in the morning
but what did they expect?

trading the rest of time
for the first sweet hour
of good love and good bye
they could call by name.

Midnights lost
and only dome are found

beautiful, broken
colored, cracked

Midnights for everyone
order up one more round

eric1313 said...

Hey lady!

eric1313 said...

"Only some are found"

typos bug me, but that one up there will stand.

eric1313 said...

It's a crystalline scene we all know:
like a nativity
like a toy train
nothing changes
except the hills
the sky

But it is better to dance alone
than to never have learned
the first crucial steps

A scene set in crystal,
the poet alone with his words
the office chair his wedding bed
a small electric lamp the full moon

eric1313 said...

Move the pieces where you like
Little changes

The words flow like the River Jordan
one day he will have to cross them

singleton said...

The poet's
banging on the keyboard
a ticker tape of
ice blue sculptures
in the air....
smoke rings
heavy with

"Ashes to ashes
dust to dust
light as a feather
lift them up"

I lean from the balcony,
as far as I can,
toes on the wrought iron railing,
catching smoke ring words
as they rise,
in the shape of
wedding bands,
hoola hoops,
figure eights,
beer bottle rings on the bar...

I collect them,
you know....
the poets flowing words....
and when he's sleeping
I string them together
into chains
mardis gras
and golden links...

May the circle be unbroken.....

skinnylittleblonde said...

In this way of love
balance is kept
while the midnight presses are burning
cranking out the black & white
one little girl is learning
that life is and always has been full color
the black & white will preach
what life has always known
when the preachers get done preaching
and the pressmen get done printing
and the judges get done judging
you can call her love.

singleton said...

She was walking
with the moon
ribboned to her hand,
following his lead
and he took her
to the
empty park
where her
soul was sleeping....
she ran her fingers
down the spine
the see-saw
weathered and old,
and he creaked,
and wobbled
then stilled,
she touched the
chain on the swing
damp and
golden in
the barely there light,
and then she
found the merry-go-round,
going nowhere,
and sitting there,
barefeet in the dirt,
she pushed....
and pushed.
until life was
a psychedlic blue
passing by
like neon dotted lines,
until she laughed
because she couldn't couldn't....
she remembered
she left her soul....
at Freedom park.....

In this way of love the balance is kept.....

eric1313 said...

What a great line! I feel awesome for inspiring such talented people as yourselves.

If I have nothing else, at least I have that.

eric1313 said...

leaning into the act
highwire jumpin' Jack flash
free to fall down
but barely holding on
by the toes

the tips

and daring the ground
to to meet him
break him

because the eyes never leave
the end of the wire line
he makes it every time

in this way of love, the balance is kept

one cramped and tired foot at a time

singleton said...

It's a helluva line,
the perfect line,
the endless line.....


singleton said...

And we laughed
at the ground
and the crowd,
psychedlic ants,

cheering or booing
or ballyhooing,
it's hard to tell
from way up here
teetering on the wire,
high from the
very act of
or foolishness...

Don't look down...

eric1313 said...

Helluva time to clink!

How are you?

singleton said...

Good, sweet friend,
I've missed you....
How's it goin?

eric1313 said...

Every line walked
and severed

All of the ends met
at one time or another

it's the way you walk the lines
that matters as much
as why you would do such a thing

above the noise and faces
above their lines

and below them the millions more
who fell down

or never had the chance
to walk the line at all

eric1313 said...

All right. Glad to see you too.

I missed writing like this. It's nice to come back and pick up where we left off.

We were totally out of sync last night, but it made some great poems, none the less.

singleton said...

The carnival came to town,
threw their Jacobs coat of many colors up for rent,
tent city on the sidewalks,
peanuts in the grass....

And we stood in line for hours
not for tickets
or cotton candy
or elephant rides,
but because
we liked it there,
snaked in between
the everyday people,
takin' notes on
how they walked and talked
and if they ever really smiled,
breathing in their cheap cologne
and naughyde boots
and brillcreamed hair....
and because
we're pickpockets.....
and every line they traded,
we took home
for souveniers.....

eric1313 said...

She wrote a letter to me
from her place on the
west coast, the left coast,
living the life of a writer
a great student of caffein

Somewhere, California

places that the Ginsburgs
Keroacs and Stegners
all all knew
and grew to love and hate so much
they don't live their anymore

it was about the ocean
and how the waves rolled
in the liquid fire sundown

how the gulls circle every evening
over the rocks
looking for trapped fish

she wrote me about the rains that fell for twelve nights
but on the thirteenth night
full moon
and that made it worthwhile
that made it balance

singleton said...

And she
captured the rain
mid thought
bottled it up
the forest....
for balance...
sultry summer
even the mosquito's
are fainting
and feining
or the

eric1313 said...

Are you there still?

singleton said...

She dances in cahoots
raising rain
raising cain
spirits from the past,

she dances in a dream
in a limbo state of mind

she dances in the streets
mardis gras parades
Zepplin in the park
An imaginary stage....

If you watch her eyes,
her feet,
her wrists,
you'll see
the choreography
the crash
is symphony,
the only song she knows....

eric1313 said...

On a wild crescendo riding high
before it fades
low and liquid
the shimmers play out
in visions of what we desire most
waves and reflections of the sky.

And her dance follows the music
riding it high
dancing down deep,
digging for the hottest fire
low and slow--and in her eyes,
reflections from the night sky...

singleton said...

How to be a hippie at Christmas

We sat on the porch
making love beads
twenty three
three hundred and sixty five
five hundred and one.

"Who will we ever give them to?"
she asked
and I smiled
and said
"Loved ones and strangers"
and she smiled
and said

eric1313 said...

It was Christmas
and she gave me love beads
some people double take
at that, hearing
but not listening

(I am an expert at this)
(Some people say so)
(and I don't blame them)

they smile at the floor
and blush
or blink
or stutter
and finally
turn to walk away
but then I'll hear
"Nice necklace, by the way"
(btw, they say btw)

but I can't blame them
(or blame them for that, btw)

It's Christmas
I love them
and I love you
no matter what.

I hope they aren't expecting
a nice but modest watch
a blender.

Not from me...

Or the hippie love bead bandit
'cause if you don't want peace
she'll give it to you anyway.

And you can get your own blender
or a rhinestone Swiss watch
Santa might still be listening

It's Christmas
and around here
anything can happen

eric1313 said...

There are these times,
like right now,

when anything at all
is too much to ask,
so I might as well
ask for everything

if I ask for anything at all.

Except for sometimes--

when I ask for

because I can't help
but sometimes want it all.

If nobody's listening
why couldn't I ask
for anything?

If somebody's listening
maybe they will do something

Or maybe,
like me
in a time like this,
they can do nothing at all

like me
they want it all,
since one of us is made
in another's image

is one of those times

eric1313 said...

Remember when we met long ago?
at the foot of a volcano
by the blue mother ocean--
the wind was talking to us
blowing in off the warm ocean,
the waves rippling,
always trying
to find a perfect balance
in the light.

Sometimes looking
like a bed of glass beads,
like every drop of molten gold
to ever grace the arms of a goddess
as the sun passes
and lower
and lower still,

until the night brought out
its three thousand stars
to meet us
face to face.

The wind was talking, singing,
and we both know the song
new the words spoken and meant
and looked behind us
as our tracks were covered
in the black volcanic sand
the wind taking care to hide us

Remember when we met so long ago?
on that enchanted island
The wind was our only friend
and now it calls like a ghost.

As I think about you next to me
all the darkness of forever
swirling around our bodies
turns to fire and sunlight
sand riding the breath of the wind

With the sun as our only witness
and the wind as our truest friend
love is more than something we make

Love is a remote paradise island
and we are lucky to call its shore

singleton said...

Heaps of perfect frozen sand
and I imagine
the cold to be
as hot as
Daytona in August
and wet
as just the same....
And that you can slide in it,
slip in it,
tumble face first
and kiss the earth
a pillow of white....

I just imagine it like that....

I plug in the little
fake fire,
stoke the red yellow blue Christmas bulb flames,
and pretend....

It must be winter somewhere

singleton said...

And all of a sudden
I'm going to cry
the first rain in
30 days and 31 nights
at the
Hotel Happy Camper,
and the muzak
piped in
pumped in
pimped in
and Doors
but it's distorted
and dusty
just the way a trip should be...

but not at the Happy Camper.....

singleton said...

I picked up the pink
princess phone
the dialing for hollers
and called him...

I scribbled the words Ray Charles
in blue on white,
doodling while he rambled,
"Hit the road Jack"
and reminisced,
watched the timer on the stove
counting down,
waiting for him to take a pause
in between
southern cuss words...
and take a fifty year old breath...

And then I did it...
passed the olive branch...

"Merry Christmas"
I inivited him and her and theirs....
and in the
that followed
I heard his RSVP.....

May the circle be unbroken...

singleton said...

"in this way of love is the balance kept"

singleton said...

unplug the tree
the fireplace
the nightlight
the dream

trip over the dog
the shoes in the hallway
the jeans on the floor

pile in the bed
with the unmade covers
and the just washed sheets
the twenty five year old pillow
to nothing
but "I need you"....

Say prayers
and mantras
and count sheep and bills and lovers
it lures you
bribes you
fools you to sleep

Just give me peace
another morning
in the sun....

eric1313 said...

Just give me peace
and I'll give you
my whole world
in sweet exchange
for all of yours

Just give me peace
and love will grow,
wild, human vines
twisting together
stretching to the
glory of the sun

Just give me peace
and all the rest
will fall into
jigsaw puzzle
one little piece
at a time

"In this way of love is the balance kept"

eric1313 said...

Sing, I have to go to Detroit again in a few hours.

My Aunt had a stroke the other night in the hospital, on top of the tumors. She is...

You know what someone is experiencing in this condition.

When she could still speak, she told me the pain was unbearable, several times over she said it, and little else. She never admitted pain before, or weakness or anything about discomfort.

I know she speaks the truth, and it eats me up like an acid bath or something wicked and malevolent like that.

I so love her. Even more than a world without her, I don't want her to be in pain, or suffer, alone like she is during the nights.

I love her so much.

Thank you for being so wonderful, Sing. You're my friend, the only writer who I could ever put heads together with like this, like gloves that fit perfect the first try.

And a hero, too.

And so are your courageous sisters.

Bless your house, a house of hard-fighters who only know peace.

I can't imagine
a world without her,

without myself
cringing from the glut
of negative emotions
and a dull, growling
slow-growing terror
of life after the fall
of a pristine soul

I can't imagine
the sky with no sun
the ocean with no life
the birds with no wings
the trees with no wind
to move them
sway them
make them bend and grow

I can't imagine
a world without her,
who taught me
this way of balance
kept through love

But soon I won't have to
for it will be...

but her ghost of love
will still walk beside me
balance kept forever
by love's beautiful way

eric1313 said...

But still, I can;t imagine

eric1313 said...

Post something while I'm gone. I'll be back tomorrow night, I have to be.

And clink! me real time, if you get a chance.

Peace and love

DeLi said...

wow! so touching. and i have so much tender weakness for butterfly.

singleton said...

And I feel the same....
the color of freedom,
the dance of peace.....