Just the little poems
    Like ferry boats
          Carrying

In the desolate landscape of my soul,
your absence echoes like a scream.
Shadows writhe where your light once warmed me,
a haunting reminder of love's decay.
My heart, a heavy burden, longs to be free.
Tears fall like autumn rain, relentless and cold.
Memories of your touch now taunt me,
leaving only emptiness to hold.

In dreams, I see your smile, a fleeting solace,
a bittersweet reminder of joy's escape.
My arms reach out, grasping only darkness,
a cruel fate that tears us apart, it seems.
Time stretches, a canvas of lonely hours,
each one a testament to love's lost themes.
I'm left to ponder what could have been,
haunted by the ghosts of our memories.

Your silence is a palpable thing,
a weight that presses upon my chest.
It threatens to consume me whole,
leaving naught but ashes of love's unrest.
And yet, I hold on to the hope of your return,
a glimmer of light in love's darkened urn.
My heart remains yours, a flame that flickers still,
guiding you back, should you choose to fulfill.

In this emptiness, I'll wait for your call,
a whispered promise to rekindle love's flame.
Together we can chase the shadows away,
and our love can rise, reborn from heartache's gray.
Until then, know that my love remains true,
a constant heartbeat, waiting only for you.

Echoes  

In the attic’s haze,
I press a withered
leaf against pale glass—

a lullaby drifts
from a cracked music box,
uncertain and warm.

That first star
hangs low in autumn’s gold,
a distant pulse I once chased.

Snapshots: rustling acorns,
my mother’s soft hum,
childhood laughter echoing walls.



Across  

At midday,
sunlight fractures through
the café’s plate-glass wall—

a leaf pirouettes
along the pavement’s
cracked seams,
circling without end.

A passerby whistles
that same old lullaby
into the city’s iron hum.

Snapshots: neon sign flicker,
tile-mosaic floor,
a pixel-bright star
blinking in my phone.



Time  

One dawn to come,
I’ll cradle a seedling leaf
in a child’s small palm—

hum that same lullaby
until it settles like dew
in their dreams.

Above us,
a star remapped
in fresh constellations
glimmers with promise.

Snapshots: sapling rings,
bedtime lantern glow,
newborn laughter
scattering daylight.







.

When a detective falls in love, he does not know who to bill for expenses--
everything is up in the air.

At a mixer for suspects, he invites me to dance via loudspeaker.
Radiant in my white dress, I resemble a snowy owl
even down to my carefully bandaged hand which he takes without hesitation.
I whisper in his ear:

I am Leon Czolgosz.
Your heart is the President of the United States of America.
We are dancing in Buffalo, city by the Niagara.
My detective, of course, falls hard.

The next time we meet, I wait for him in the bullpen at the police station.
They know him there.
They hire cellists.
He confesses his deepest fantasy to me:

I want to speak words of love to you
via telephone
with our hands naked and separated only by the safety glass.
I want the call recorded
and broadcast to wild lovers around the globe.

Shortly after, we are married. I wear my favorite bearskin robe.
My small black cubs frolic nearby,
climbing the pews and then tumbling gaily down again.
My detective is resplendent in his tuxedo.
The hired band plays Funiculi Funicula.
I snarl when my detective gets too close to the cubs, and this inflames him.

At last, we lie in bed together, like busy machines come to rest.
I am wearing nothing but the revolver-shaped earrings he has given me.
My detective wears a felt fedora
and a look of smug adoration like a daredevil over the falls in a barrel.
I am The Queen of the Mist,
suspected in various thieveries, check kiting, and jaywalking.

Our love is an aviary
where birds wheel above the thundering water like intelligent confetti.
Look in your mailbox, I tell my detective.
I have left you a valentine and an Easter egg.
He asks if, after all, I am his mystery client.
I enter a plea of innocent.
My love is happy now, laughing.

do you remember
the pause
between words?

do they remember
the place on spine
where water dropped.

bone.

From the earth's beginning
of life, and night,
It has been a companion,
to all with sight.

A controller of nature,
and oceans tides.
Showing only one side
the other it hides

Cycling from lighted face,
to smiling away.
It taught humans a span,
longer than a day.

Floating above in white
florescent grace,
A symbol of Romance, and
  a slower pace.

Realizing that everyone,
each and all.
Have looked up with wonder
of earth's reflective ball.