On Reading James Galvin

Somewhere
the night steals me
so high is the mesa
that my bride is the moonlight
dancing

Daily
courage to give
hope a shiny bucket
for its communion with the well
to sip

October comes mild.
Yet like licks on soft ice cream,
the leaves will soon melt.

That dog,
reality,
the one that barks at me
yet finds me neatly adequate
in fact

To row
only rowboats
into lingering fog
the oars that squeak your arms are there
alive.

Dawn frocks
in calico
conflicting with sky blue
yet let us dance away the morn
me, you.

A swan,
October glides
under a golden sun
and swims over, regally swims,
despair.

Woman,
beneath the stars,
when you" another me,"
when you open my pirate skull,
I soar!

Dream ship,
you anchor me
against the churning tides
of rage and terror, fear and hate--
with love!

so sure
of glory seed-
these germinating days
whose very atoms speak of life--
She plants

To leap
into the dark
to leave your silent mask
to carve in darkness memories
of you

The pain
to contemplate
ironies, stabbing ones,
that hide the clouds in rays of sun
not real!

White, dark,
the moon should dance
around the thoughts I love,
around those hurly, burly clouds
with drift.

"Banks"

Thin coins
of morning light-
the spangles on the dew--
the clouds with their moments of shade--
in banks

The whine,
refrigerator,
is never me, it's you
or my so burned alarming clock
not me

Ideal
romantic dream
the place one first visits
that says flowers will grow in us
somehow

hold on
delicious one
across divided seas
we wait until the starlight streams
so hold!

It's early fall and the days
laugh, sing, dance like
Halloween kids approaching
a door, their mothers hovering
like good angels.

In a dusty closet
looking for a rainbow--
in a dusty rainbow
looking for a closet--
while outside the leaves fall.

The old blue,
the one without brass buttons,
still fits snugly
even when I'm naked

Times Square--it's as if
the jaunty bravado of its neon
hides a lonely pain.

Like uniformed soldiers
hungry with dreams,
the autumn days blend,
march towards winter

Autumn comes lovely
as a gentle mare--too
soon the stud months
will snort. But today,
October 5, 2007, the
Hibiscus still bloom,
gaudy in pink, white.

Uninvited, yet invited,
we dance, play music,
you on her flute, me
on banjo. Of course
they are discordant songs,
songs that hint of pain.
Make it night I ask, so
I may lie quietly with you.

Halting my tongue,
as if I was a quiet breeze,
or prowling cat, as if
I was a dream.

Diet

The air astounds
the boiling kettle
while nearby
the fresh baked scones shout:
"Marmalade is life,
have a bite to eat."

Soon November comes and
lifts her skirt. Dry leaves will blow
and the Begonias will curl, as if,
before bare- bottomed winter,
Dame November shows her garter.

I say, "you made me human so
go pick up the lightning yourself."
"Only you can make it flash ,"she
says,"do it just for me."

Manhattan Again

The neons never ending glare
helps square the darkest night
I voyage towards a dreamless place
while others cry for hope

Manhattan

The police horses gallop by
without a colored plume
but rivers run on every side
and gloriously boom