the fallen way

the fallen way

we met along the fallen way,
and broke our promises at once

to save us time

she pinned me back among the pearls,
we bent and spent and drank and edged

the rim with lime

she never spoke the truth, but had
a sort of truth-tinged accent –
and my recourse to kind-of-real
was shockingly infrequent

but bodies go when hearts give out,
and spirits reach and wander off

alone, unbid

we met along the fallen way,
there wasn’t anything to say

just what we did

aside the hill

aside the hill, along the way,
abandoned, and obscure in place,
two day’s construction (maybe) and
not rich in space or face

the hated ones, unvaunted ones,
who merit not the second glance,
the cobblestones upon the floor,
the watchers of the dance

the lesser than, the better than,
the gaze of pride, the flex of will,
the scornful moment blithely passing
the hill

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