she whispered, “hi -“

she whispered, "hi"...

she whispered, “hi –
for now i’m yours
to the degree i’m anyone’s.

and you’ll be mine
for such a time
as both may choose to stay.”

and low and long
we spoke and touched
and used –
the word is ‘used’, i think –

for each made each self useful
to the other

out of desire
to see
the fresh creation
and augmentation

of pleasure

the gift that’s given

the gift that's given

the gift that’s given, quiet, on the march

the moments spent spent in careless disarray

the me in you and me, the roman arch

of bodies made to bend and shape that way


the heart inside the man that seeks the heart

the soul inside of you that courts release

the gift that’s given, taken; whole, in part –

the constant striving, looking for


the one sole source of truth

the things that i don’t know add up.

i must in humbleness unlearn
the many tropes i thought i knew
that were just lies, self-serving –

but not in silence to remain.

although i might be fearful that
i have not found the one sole source
among truth’s many flavors that
are now my heart unnerving –

for have i truly known
the weight of care
that others bear?

it seems unlikely, where i sit.

for truth, like peppers, has
its many shades, varieties, and purposes –

and i cannot remove myself
from the perspective which
defines the learner

this slow burner

this world-weary, bleary eyed, wage-earner

Oh, Love…

Oh, love, I’ve seen you autumn days
When hearts were less recalcitrant,
As leaves blew by in careless tumbles,
Lifted by the wind

Oh, love, I’ve seen you pensive, when
The heart grew fuller than the frame
Containing who and what we are,
These cans in which we’re tinned

For seldom truth we speak, although,
We claim to seek it all the time;
We vow it is our sacred right,
The one thing we would die for –

But as the rustling leaves blow by,
Our precious goals all go awry;
For what we’d have, we take as naught,
And shrink from what we’d try for

Oh, love, how do we lift this veil?
This covering of toil and stress?
I’d give you all I’ll ever have,
Except for my own selfishness

I’d hold you precious, all the time,
Except for my own



she’s lodged and stuck within his brain –
he cannot get out her out –
he knows it’s madness – folly – and
he curses at the day that he was born —

he runs at 4 am, and tries to sweat her out,
to breathe her gone,
but still she’s there, in elegance,
a brand that burns into his head,
a fire blazing in the night,
unwanted thoughts in daytime, and
a hopeless sort of sadness when he’s driving

for he’s known what it is to touch
and feel and be a part, to be as one,
then be apart again – as she in coldness
lapses into feeling her non-feelings

and he would take on anyone who might be there
to drive her out, her maddening indifference –
but she won’t go
she’s lodged

and love has made of him
a fool

I Sometimes Walk

I sometimes walk towards Lord knows what
Because it’s where I’m headed;
I often fear the route I took
But still explore the dreaded,

The feared, the secret, the unknown –
These all have their allures –
For all the choices I have made
In no way me inures

To what misfortune my way waits.
This is the life we lead:
We’re driven by our opaque hearts
As much as any need

Might lead us to our destinies.
Seek not these paths to censure:
For such is human servitude,
The terms of our indenture —

We’re fated to know just enough
To know that we don’t know;
But gifted with such energy
That still we onward go

Round corners and down tunnels where
We meet our many fates —
The new experience we find
But never know awaits,

As passion fights with habit, and
We new paths will behold —
Just like the one I’m walking on
Before I get too old.

For I have no idea – I don’t.
But still, I do not balk:
For sometimes, we walk towards our dreams,
And others —
We just walk

The Covering Quilt

A girl was born, a miracle;
She grew to know the lizards and the birds
That lined the quilt with which
Her mother covered her at night

When she saw the stars, they shifted
Into the same bright menagerie;
Dreams of dancing tropical stars
Keeping her warm and safe

Her mother wore her sadness soft;
There was no father – there had never been –
And when her mother’s footsteps slowed with sorrow,
Her daughter offered her the covering quilt

Oh, let love rain down like showers of stars,
Let flocks of birds carry you to sweet peace;
Let love cover us tonight, we just-two,
And take us to where many-colored dreams
Turn tears into pools of reflected wonder

Better to Give

We walked beside magnificence,
And I was full of glory;
Of how the world itself would change
The day it heard my story –

She listened to me carefully,
And never raised an eyebrow,
But in her wisdom, waited; for
The truth would hit me, somehow —

A twenty-one, I owned the world.
But meant no harm so doing:
It wasn’t what I tried she feared,
But what I was eschewing

So she said finally to me
When she had heard my all:
“It’s better to give a little, than
  To never give at all.”

It’s like she new the future:
Disillusioned as I’d be,
That I would court retreat when things
Did not work out for me.

But here, beside the same small pond,
Her words ring in my head;
They can’t bring back my innocence,
And cannot raise the dead

But I can add to happiness
As long as I’m still living:
It’s better to give whate’er you can,
Than just give up
On giving

before the spell that winter cast

before the spell that winter cast,
i lived with autumn for awhile –
the days were twisted wide and vast

and there, upon a sudden smile
she looked at me, expectantly;
amused at all the raging bile

the news had likely fed to me –
a room in which she would not dwell,
a noise she heard, but would not heed,

although i found it just as well:
the ideas, words she didn’t need,
for all that came so loud had passed

and quiet on the autumn mile,
the few short months that we amassed
of my vain stretch, and her soft style

were all there was to her and me —
a picture snapped, a photocell,
a life, a time, a coterie,

a season down; a day that fell –
the itch you scratch until you bleed,
the open sore you see aghast,

the long regret that spans the screed

before the spell that winter cast



Perhaps there’s no one that you know
Who tells the truth the way they should;
Perhaps the world seems dark indeed,
With little left of what seems good —

But when the wind is blowing, you
Might find a place safe from the storm;
Perhaps it seems like little, but
To have a space you can be warm

Is more than many have, and more
Than you have had on certain days —
Perhaps the world is crazy, but,
It needn’t be – not here – always —

So build what love can build, and know:
No overnight can tame this curse,
Perhaps the world is cold, but we –
We can at least not leave it


i had some semblance, it wasn’t much of one –
just a tiny semblance, often
made fun of by the other semblances

people would confuse me for someone else;
i insisted i had a small semblance, at best

like my last vestige of sanity,
my slightest inkling what you’re talking about, and
my miniscule odds of recovery,
my semblance soldiers on,
wearing its meagreness as a badge of honor

in no small measure

When She Found Out He Lied

When She Found Out He Lied

When she found he lied, it was
A strange and fateful day.
She looked back and could see
It happened many times before —

Exactly why she’d missed it, she
Could not exactly say:
She only knew that this was it.
She wouldn’t stand for more.

The fall-apart was messy, but
It was necessity.
So, freed from all the hastiness
That she’d known in her youth,

She set out on the journey to
The woman she could be;
But with the awesome, fragile thing
She now knew was the truth —

It matters not what you’ve been dreaming of,
For love is only love
That acts
Like love.


Song, then song, goes flashing by
And memories of every kind
Come pouring back like ocean waves
Upon the shoreline of my mind —

I was fifteen and playing ping-pong with
Three of the guys from school, and
We were all laughing.

We were taking our first trip together, and
This song was on the radio as we headed to Gatlinburg.
We held hands the entire way.

This song reminds me of the beach.
We heard it every day that one summer,
The one where your hair got so long.

We’d all go to that buffet place, and
The two of you would be singing in the back seat,
Mangling the words of this song.
But I loved hearing you sing it.

Oh my gosh.
This was the best slow dancing song ever.
Or at least, the best one out when we slow danced.

Wow. I love this song.
People used to sing about changing the world.
And they believed it when they sang it.
I still believe it.

I remember you, lying in the leaves, humming this song
Staring up at the sky and hoping for something
To come and take you away from all of this.
Only I didn’t know, what that longing meant, yet —
But I found out.

The memories that fill the air:
These things you thought no longer there —
The songs picked out from all this din
The right antenna can tune in.

The wonder that’s a human life,
The soul that’s born to run and sing —
The mystery that is ourselves,
The everyday that’s