I am alive
yet so small
almost nothing
I am a leaf on a great oak
whose roots reach into the cosmos.

“…how close we are
     to being
     nothing
     most of the time

     and
     for some of us
     nothing all of the time…  - Bukowski: “Meeting Them”


Reading his poem freed me
but bound me to a budding desire
to write
and explore
its roots in a reality
I fear.

How close to being nothing
are we
and is it for eternity
or just a moment?

But just asking the question is liberating
as if I looked death in the face
and just smiled.

How sweet is our time together
falling softly into violin strings
up into sky on mockingbird wings
across piano keys of white and black
where there is nothing I lack
and every moment stretches
across horizons blue and gold
no matter how battered and old
my body of bones and flesh
every minute green and full and fresh.

Lost in labyrinthine passages
flitting from one bright dangly thing to another
following the lead of my cravings
which was no lead at all
somehow roads were paved
in your direction
and I found my way
into the chambers of your heart.

When I think of the stars and galaxies
capable of capturing your notice and care
the splendid finitude of your love for me
pierces my heart.

This is not just an ordinary day
like yesterday or the day before
this day I’ll open a door
to a garden alive in dark clay
hummingbirds searching for paradise
in a heat wave scorching and dry
honeybees saying goodbye
mothers in a war made of sacrifice

No ordinary day this one
I’ll find a way out of sadness
through an hour of madness
out of moments undone
taking thirty minutes for my lover
where we touch our toes
take a risk to expose
mistakes we were loathe to uncover.

We will create this present day
halfway out of old into something new and bold.

To have someone who can turn
my coal into gold
is far more than an alchemist
it is a precious presence
of immeasurable value.