Saturday, September 27, 2014

Trees I

Words come out
Affirmation. They send to you
Confirmation to the way,
Yet you know not my true play.

It’s enough for you to allow me
To walk beside you for hours,
Talk and drive and solve—
Not my heart’s dilemma—

Together in kindness with a smile,
Joke and laugh,
Eyes meeting in friendship
Without doubt—For you—

While I sit next to you
Sitting back on the porch
Hoping for, hating, enjoying
The moments of us staying in, staring at the pines.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Point of the Sea IV

What is it that lies before us
Just outside the finger’s contact
The reflection of light to an eye?
What is it in his face that I have to see again and again?

When you started liking photos
I liked yours back with equal intention
And urgency, until I saw the other
Tagged with you and yours.

Drawing back was all I could do.
What was beyond touch was left aside,
Afar, out of sight without attempting glance,
Beyond, without knowing where to look.

The kisses we had on the edge of the sea
Would be the Thirty-year anniversary that never came,
Your lips at the airport would be death’s separation,
An eternal departure where you never look back.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Housing VIII

Where am I?
I don’t know.
Am I trapped in an apartment, bound and gay?
Am I wandering the woods without compass, orientation?
Am I flying away quickly, never to know man’s kind more than I know myself?
Am I tilling the field, seeds thrust into, plowed?
Am I loading large bails of hay, tossing balls?

Or Am I lying on my couch, besotted and being sodomized?
That’s where I must be, hiding in a closet, passed out under the table, 
Vomiting out the window, sick to the stomach in bed, 
Desperate for life beyond the malaise of metaphors. 

Sunday, August 17, 2014

Point of the Sea III

I knew I couldn’t see.
I walked over the broken glass anyway,
The nerves having been dead since the first time.
The quick impression became blueprint, the world went dark,
Routine the death of a thousand rods and cones.

Then there was a sign in my retarded vision
I never saw in the dearest light. After months
Of thinking there was no recycling, no rebirth from life’s darkness, there
In my twilit eyes was a shadowy indication
Missed a dozen times over in the best days’ pitched attentiveness.

How it would take a late night and long nap to see
Through encrusted lashes that the glass needs
Not shattered uselessness but opportune flame,
New-found viscosity a miracle,
Transparently ecstatic, galvanizingly illuminated, a glittering anxiety—vision.

Sunday, July 27, 2014

Point of the Sea II

In trembling and wrenching hard the gut
The truth exploded like lava—
Searing, shocking, a splattering mess.

From the ejecta run multicolored fears,
Melting together to a viscous stream
Of purest white, parching water to all

Who fear for the dynamic range of wavelengths—
Energetically passing to another distant planet—
Traveling the darkness alone.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Point of the Sea I

Your smile is near me but you are not.
Your hands are far away but I feel your caress.
What was it we had, could we have it again?

You look not toward the Atlantic,
The voyages sought for are at too great a price.
No amount of months before hand,

No higher rates of savings will make up
The dividends you’re invested in another.
While I see your teeth through gladdened lips

And imagine fingers on areas shaved
I try to avert my eyes from yonder ocean because
My love knows no price too great to say no.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Housing VII

A word to come,
Irresponsible hospitality,
A week of gestures,
Focused eyes, attentive ears,
Accosting cops, cool drinks unsafe.

Pleasant walks bring poor choices near,
Bloody, beaten she falls on his neighbor's eye,
Making her spill her summer lemonade,
Almost a liter, a little at a time.

You only realize you’re a guest too
When your family turns against you.

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Iced Over

And useless is the air conditioner.
Sweat rolls down my brow
Before I even turn it off to thaw.
Maybe with time off it will return
To its cooling purpose and save
Our mutual dripping.

Both of us are guilty of running
So consistently despite limitations
That we cause ourselves to fail,
The call to cooling turned to a freezing up.

Here is found a miracle, that by purposed pauses
We never come to emergency. To stop
And rest is not sloth, it is Sabbath.

Saturday, June 28, 2014

Blue Jasmine

I used to know all the words
But now they’re all a jumble. They ran
Away so long ago, vanishing into paragraphs
And pages too sprawling and small to track or read.

Then it seemed the hieroglyphics exploded,
Leaving no syllables, no compound sounds—no meaning—
Just consonants and vowels, an alphabet where as pieces
From different puzzles no two could be

Tied, jointed, paired. In the end all one could do
Is make piles of them, a pre-adamic sorting
Based on size, color, character, awaiting the day
When language returns, the day God walks with us again

Through the garden, blessing an inflorescence of speech
And a fruitfulness of poetry by which we no longer stammer,
Gape, hungry for the well-spoken breath, but are sated,
Glutted with penetrating, uttered love,

A healing that soothes the soul’s desperation. Such
Longed-for and long-awaited messages are never
Negative but imbibed with peaceful potency that could last
A thousand years’ drought.

I am still in the desert.
I have been here a thousand years.
I have labored; piles stand.
I will wait another millennium for just one more word to come.

That word will be my last.