Once in the summer
when the moon ruled
over the lands of men
with her silver law

you said
love is a perfection
so I hid my pain
deep inside where
it was impossible to see
but it remained with me
each time I smiled
it tore my castles down
each time I cried
it hungrily drunk the tears

you said
love is the end
so I fell silent wandering
in the stars for answer
yet when I looked
into your eyes there
was no end in them
nor the beginning
and the spark you had
was no longer to be

you said
love is the absolute
So I stopped believing
in you for I knew
you lied (even to yourself)
then the pain came to
surface and you saw
my struggle by own eyes
took the brightest of stars
and tangling it in my hair

you said love is us

I went to the Bookstore today
    (can't do tablets or laptops
    when smoking cigars
    and
    ...also hate tv...don't like
    the way it makes me feel
    or other people look)
In downtown Boulder, Colo
Which, if you've never been
Displays fresh prints of Dave Eggers
And Edward Abbey
    In an 1899 erected structure
        That formerly hosted
            Ballroom dances
                Orchestras
                    And secret societies
It's not Powells in Portland, Ore
    (old school state abbreviations...
    deal with it)
But it's better for me
    Because I'm here
And it was a beautiful day
Even after losing at chess
    to a brilliant fool
    just outside
I couldn't help myself
    From browsing the poetry section
        In its entirety
(Only here for the $3.75 copy of the Poetry Foundation's monthly)
And I noticed an increase
    In fresh copies of Hafiz
    Same for Bukowski
    And Ginsberg
Keats was nowhere to be found
Typically, Shakespeare, Whitman,
    Wordsworth...are everywhere
I wondered if the American compilation
    by Garrison Keillor
    is worhwhile
There were dozens
    And dozens
        Of masters
            That I have not spent time with
Not "spent time"
Perhaps read a bit
    But not, connected with enough
    that I could say...I got it
    Not a fully aligned get
    But an education
        And appreciation
            To one who has pushed the craft
            in their own way
Or left me weeping
    at brilliance of love and language
But I resisted said temptation
    Of rampant reckless bookbuying
        And got my magazine
But on my drive home
    In the far East reaches of the county
        (Boulder's real estate no longer
        grants us commons much access)
    I stopped at tiny used book shop
        Bought an old copy of
            D. H. Lawrence poetry
                for a few bucks
And by the time I got home
To take inventory of tea
    Of coffee
        Of wine and cigars

I was rather pleased
    Pleased with myself
For I looked forward
    To the read
        To the sky
        To living soul free
            Once again

She says we're magic.
And my inclination is to doubt
Because to me magic is the impossible.

But every time she speaks
She's magic.
And it's been like that since we shared a womb.

We are twins that shouldn't have been;
No twins run in either side of our bloodlines.
An impossible pair, you could say.

She calls us magic.

She and I have faced death and lived.
Hindsight still brings no clarity
To understanding why we didn't die.
An impossible life, you could say.

She calls us magic.

And I watch how she moves through her life as a teacher
Touching and changing and redirecting
The fatal fate others are destined for
Making it into a life worthy of them
For she says they're magic too.

And knowing what she's seen and lived,
What she does seems impossible to me.

But she does it. She lives it. She is it.
And I wonder how she couldn't be
When that's the only sensible thing:
She is magic.

Then she pulls up a mirror
And faces me.

Our lives parted paths long ago yet remain parallel.
And she makes me see that all I've done
To live and breathe and thrive and succeed
Is in others' eyes, impossible.

And she boldly declares yet again,
Yo, we are ******' magic!

This time I believe.

Do you see it?
The cloud of  lilies and roses and freedom
Wrapped in silk of white and orange and green
Flying endlessly in eternity,
Above the silvery horizon
Down the wall of mountain fame
My country rises, a new child is born
A hope comes into being
A journey begins.
Amen