Paradox

Sweet winter of dream
the darkness kisses
then erases our shadows
Sweet summer of light
we kiss in the light
before we wander to dark...
together...always together...

Love that Romance

Let it fall in waterfalls
and let it speak with bodies
tender in the night. Yes, let
it flow, oh God, let love flow.

Back to the first draft (Lovers Lane)

Shiny bottle caps,
stuck in the hard clay--
she was high school universe...

Lovers Lane

Shiny bottle caps
darkly overturn
as she shows her universe

After Listening To Charles Simic
1)
Cannibals have yellow teeth
says Joyce or Simic
when white faces smile
2)
While we talk and eat
near the dining room table
a white crane fishes

On dreamy dust roads,
surrounding a covered bridge,
still moments clatter.

Kicking up old dust,
life's little pick-up,honking,
travels steel bridges.

To go this alone,
with old drums and
ancient songbirds--
while the corners
gather people
waiting for the light.

Twilight,
your yellow-orange bruises
softly darken...

Rebirth

So everybody say good morning
we all heard his name
across the garden
so everybody say good night
and fiddle the dance
as if he had called

Moonie

Uptight white collar,
argue with speeding rivers
your reflections' age

Seduce the wind, chime.
Your dream is so fragile
in the alcoves of your heart.

Hibiscus,
with flesh wounds,
yet so achingly lovely--
hearts--they too expand, contract.

Old man,
rage at the mountain.
Its shadow will too soon
cover you.

Come as a sparrow,
one carried across seas,
or come on a donkey, like
that carpenter-prince, or
come as the rain or come
as the mist; even come with
the ocean as your cup of tea.
But, Lord, please come to me.

The definite,
its curl,
its roar--
indefinite
upon the beach.

Washed sun
clean white shirt
courtesy of a cloud

A thousand comets,
a thousand fires--
Cool is the rain winking at me.

Indian mounds,
those burial grounds--
slippery the road to freedom--
slippery the road to love

Notes to myself

Little doll,
pinned thru and thru
but not thru your heart.

Just beyond my reach the
iron bars do battle again.
Yet I feel safe--locked in--
but safe.

One. I write "lonely as an
engagement ring in a pawn shop."
Two. Right then the radio plays
"She will be Loved" by Maroon 5.

Manhattan

Square shouldered buildings,
in the soup and sauce of night,
wink tomorrows wink.

Memories swim like raindrops
on my umbrella. At first they
drum, and then, with a whisper,
they softly trickle down.

Cloudy yellow horse
cantering across the sky
so laden with dark
so headed for tomorrow