Another love poem? I ask myself.

She's a red streak
where the waves froth her feet white
a girl scouring the sands for shells
in the ageless haze the sea spews
bending and rising like the doubt
if time by some quirk has stopped
and the slanting beach is that warped space
where for long has homed
all the free souls of the world
love being their only name.

I walk up to her richer
by another love poem.

They came out of the dark wilderness..
My solitude and my peace..
Some of my thoughts will sometimes drift to them..
These shadows come and go..
A strange peace indeed..
In darkness where everything can be seen..
As if there were light but truly there wasn't..
Thats what the dark wilderness is..
A wild darkness untainted by hate or malice..
True darkness..
Its where my solitude and peace come from..
Its where they will return..
Along side me someday.   .. . . . . .. .           .. .       . .. . . . .. .

They are bombing children
as their own
are hummed lullabies.
They are bombing children
as their own
are tucked into bed tonight.
They are bombing children
as their own are rocked to sleep.
They are bombing children
with rockets burying them
in rubble deep.

I was looking for the suitcase
one of those work trips
Staying at a sterile Ramada
TV blaring through fiber walls

Down the hall a door slams on sleep
My heart leaps like a squirrel
onto a New Jersey highway at rush hour

So much for –  “Have a pleasant stay.”

I lay thinking about road-****
alive-- then incongruous –  dead

Awake, listening to trucks
log their roar of rush
Then, whine to the distance – away

Awake, till I can smell
perfume of the maid's cart
masking evidence of people

Awake, hearing
twitter of Spanish
Smallish women in turquoise uniforms
long dark ponytails
cleaning rooms
like stalls in a cattle barn
Their faces make me long for home
somewhere –  
I am always longing
and never seem to be....

Anyway, I was looking for that suitcase
Found her dolls lying on it
and wondered when they got there
A day when I was working, no doubt

She must've looked at them
decided they were lost
in silly-sleep
beneath the basketball poster
beside the boom box
Sleeping with her childhood
in the cellar where....
_

Spring comes like a longing –  
for a moment
for a home

They were darling there –  
yellow romper, plaid sun-suit –

Same clothes as the day –

They, last saw her play....