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