There can not be a day
when I don’t think of you

because you know me
when I have a thought difficultly
and you listen as if I always
make sense, and you

love me enough to indulge
my every scramble, because

you know the mystery
of our love, and you
are the dainty matrix
that makes us wild
to be insanely congruent

the most magnificent puzzle
that comes together
for love.

— Douglas Gilbert



where am I going to go now that doom is so certain. everything hurts and there is so much endless sorrow and I don’t know why I am not a beautiful beast because sometimes I can be funny, I can be charming, I could have a thought, and if I were a person, there mighty be a tiny meal of a pleasure of her that I could know.

Not Anything

so, I’m pretty much done. I’m not going to be anything. Time is up, there is no progress, and no hope at all. I don’t want to just look. But nothing will I ever be able to touch because I am untouchable and ugly in body and mind. I can’t try anymore to do the impossible because I’m not a genius in any sphere at all and if I’m not extraordinary then there is only doom and loneliness because I am so boring to talk to, such a rambling voice who knows nothing about a life and was born for nothing with defective genes: I am the reason for an abortion — someone who never should have been born.

Geraniums Are Easy

Geraniums Are Easy

In elementary school, I remember
the geraniums on the window sill, and
I hated them because they were
always there and needed no care.

I don’t know why
as a child then
I didn’t kill myself, because
I was dirt. Except that
my teacher seemed to
love me though
I knew that the kids
knew I was worthless, and

they butchered my thoughts,
but She wondered why
I weeped, but as asinine teachers do
she never asked my idiot parents why
they were so ashamed of me, even though
she loved me. Yes I know that teachers
are taught to be oblivious — yeah, it’s
part of the union contract.

Of course, it
could have been much simpler.

And now I am stuck
with the reality of
impossibility, and a stench of being

Every promise is gone
and I am sad beyond Dad.

Tell me why I
am nothing.

Tell me why I
am unloved
though I

could have loved
the any curiosity
that was beautiful to me
as if I were a person, and
probably I’m not.

I think when I was 10, I
thought of myself as a person.

But then I learned
I was a stupid student

And so I died
and never recovered.

They ridiculed me
when I wanted to
invent something new, because

I’m an idiot

So never will I do
anything better than
a geranium.

I know where my heart is;
I know where my knife is.

— Douglas Gilbert

How Many Ways Do I Love You

How Many Ways Do I Love You

If ever I told you so
that I’d love your soul

It should be real, and

I think I’ve known
how you smile.

I think I know that
you are so lovely.

Can it be real. I

Will you find in me
inspiration, because

I want you to
breathe in me, and

I want to blow you away

Not too far
not too lonely, because

I am here, and
I give you my body
and soul to touch, because

you look at me, and
see me.

— Douglas Gilbert