Leaning on the grass
like the late September breeze,

she traces as a path,
the pattern pressed into my knees

to where the lines are thickest,
finds my fondest memories,

and softly drops her kisses
like the falling autumn leaves.

βλέπω*

Hope flickers in gathering darkness.
War, sickness, death, poverty, loss:
we must suffer them all again.
The dark heart of being
wears the weary soul.
The common world of pain,
a place we all know best.
Yet even as night falls,
a new morning of light beckons.
Hope flickers but does not falter.

The coldness of morning
penetrates in proportion
to the lonely nights before
and the winds that blow
in from the north
like sadness wrapped
all around me
a coat without pockets
no warmth for my hands
that once held yours
like ashes without fire
and there is ice on my lashes
that burns like the last words
I heard you say to my back
as I walked away out the door.

A stare
will become
a scar
if you don't watch it
like a hawk
and if you let it
loose darkness
will swoop
through the rafters
in the loft
while you lie there
letting night
swell into a wound
like the red moon
and your eyes
will fill with vines
of poison ivey
itching to be blind
and wishing
to pour the pain
away forevermore.

You know what I mean
that person who seems
to you in your dreams
a bit more than lust
but just shy of love
who can drive you mad
with only one glance
and I'm not talking about
getting into those pants
no, what I mean is
something beyond desire
more than a fire
but not quite the one
that would leave you broken
hearted and alone if she danced
with every man in the room
but, man, I sure do like the way
those butterflies in her *******
make me feel like a lepidopterist
rather than an archaeologist.

She's a beautiful woman.

When age left her side
she grew a bed of marigold
blooming yellow and red
catching sunshine in winter
and as the years tiptoed to her
a fresh bed of love she made
and lay thereupon newly wed.

I tell her that tomorrow
Slides slowly to meet my
Familiar night.

That the changes are few
And subtle. I am OK, I say,
Face still cold from last night's

Pavement.
Truth is I'm terrified.
Heartbroken and soaked in

Myself, clinging to the past with
One hand, fighting its demons
With the other. Terrified.

Embracing my inner
Earthling. Loathing it.
Terrified. Loving it.

I used to think I was only human.
Now I
Know.

Lonely, like the ancient ocean
flooding fast upon the sand

past a fading line of footprints,
ankle deep in surf she stands

casting wishes on the water
like a sprinkling of snow,

light they land but moments after,
melt into the waves, and go..

I head out at twilight
only to return each dawn,
wading the muddied waters
of my youth, and mysteries
of a history misremembered,
or wishfull, wistful memories,
wanting to revisit in dreams
those things that defy the laws
of physics, yet knowing I can't
go back, and each breath I take
reminds me forever of that fact.

I

...she tip-toes in, sprinkling
Fairy-dust into the darkest
Corners of my mind's living room.   
Shuts the door behind her with
A smile of the kind that sees
Sobbing babies of all ages
Silent and asleep.

Skulls as candle-holders, knuckle
Duster paperweights, blades
["...there are so many
Weapons in here..."].
My taste in art and decor
Is dark and delightfully human.
Aesthetics so alien to an angel.

She sees right through it.
Warrior or shaman,  
All souls are children in  
Her eyes.


II

Having pried up puzzle pieces
That were hammer-****** into
Submission, she puts deep things
Into place
["Shh... just follow the sound of
My voice..."], has love enough for
Lifetimes, yet will always be

Her own.
How could any man not
Dream to harness as much as a
Single ray of her shine?
Comfort; healing; an element in
Human disguise. But her laughter  
Sparkles its give-away:

Us mortal men don't carry  
The strength to hold her as gently,
Lightly; unpossessively as one
Must.


III

Goddess demanding her hugs
Received, or angel pulling pain
From something broken.
Hands that love the life in  
Everything touch also the
Spaces between things.
Find us lost ones there.

A warm river cutting through
Winter frost, ice cold slumber
And lonely fatigue.
*Tired? Here, I'll make
Time go away
For a
While.

You owe me nothing,
Little boy.
Our souls are always
Even.