poetry of jesse wiles

fortieth year - 3

it was my fortieth year to heaven when the flange echoed and a voice and a bass guitar and a snare the ironic sting of the truth turned to self assertion

don't miss your boat it's leaving now

and here i will spread my wings yes i will call this home i have no time to justify to you fool you're blind move aside for me all i can say to you my new neighbor is you must move on upon these pour souls i'll build heaven and call it home

it was my fortieth year to heaven when my children every constraint opened the world of possibility by snatching my will from the demon clutches of self-interest mirrored every disgusting appearance with love and acceptance and trust and then maybe you hear a thing about a pen a simple stupid pen that explodes every illness ruptures disease with a minor understanding that trust comes from trust

you can't break that which isn't yours i'm not my own it's not my choice

it was my fortieth year to heaven woke to my hearing in the buzzing song of one more beautiful than words can describe a young boy whose young years i scarcely recall grown to this man my brother and i the vassal elder tied at the heart never ever leave

it was my fortieth year to heaven when august and everything after shattered the sky and here i stop for a moment in the sorry tearful recognition that i simply do not have enough time to write the love poems to every ear which deserves my attention

so blessed so ridiculously blessed

this is how she moves hardly letting you snatch a breath before unloading a new exhilaration into your glowing jewel

it was my fortieth year to heaven when it became clear that every moment till the end of moments will be spent in the waltz across texas sacred lumpy heartland

it was my fortieth year to heaven when my fingers longed for their home on ivory keys yearned for the expression those early years stupidly assumed would always be there

and he told me that i'd done alright and he kissed me till the morning light

and i might have been a girl and may before i pass i know the touch of you my piano angel

© 2026 jesse wiles