My knight rides out seeking me to greet
I run to him as though on winged feet

The bright morning mist gathers
As we in each other's arms shelter

Though day begins to burn away
Let time weld us together, pray

And our love eternal will stay
That never should it fade

To remain embraced forever
From this very day, and stay this way

To remain embraced forever
And stay this way from this very day

You choose the vehicle,
You choose the road.

Can you really complain

As you go tearing down
An interstate headed for where?

Long life equals a safe drive.

Mountain crocus'
Reach purple arms
Towards the sky
Spring twinkles
In their yellow eyes

Birds come and go
In earnest flows
A rhythm, a cycle.

Just as

Flow the flowers
Blown in drying fields
Fly on ephemeral wings.

So, flow all things.

After we fell apart I tried to put the pieces back together.
But they just wouldn't fit, the parts that made you did, just fine.

Not mine,

They no longer belonged so I threw them out.  I grew.
Two weary-worn, tattered lives had lain side by side so long;

I was left to start again, cut new pieces, lay them into a new scene,
One without you, you with your unchanged YOU,

Me ANEW.

What else could I do?

I have so many snapshots of life in my old brain.
Some truly amazing things reside there. I wish
I could hook up to a printer and press "print."
Sadly, when I die, they die.  So, it goes with all of us.

My love, I know, I know sweet love,
You used alcohol and drugs to stop the war in your head.
It never did stop raging within, as you raged without.  

The Viet Cong didn't get a bullet into you.
But the ****** was cheap and to a combat soldier, sweet.
So, I guess, they killed you slowly, softly.

You had been handsome, gregarious, and brilliant even.
I would help you clean yourself up, put you back together
Only to have you load that "gentle bullet" and fire it into your arms.

Stopping things in your head means eventually becoming brain-dead.
I saw the beautiful, intelligent man that you were become stupid.
Killed by that slow-moving, gentle bullet.

But it was not merciful.
It was not gentle.
Was it, my love?

Even as an orange fog ascends across the land
The blossom of a precious rose continues to bloom
A bright spot growing, its scent is prophetic

"But as these things start to occur, stand up straight and
lift up your heads, because your deliverance is getting near.”
Luke 21:28

Love can be like watching clouds.
You spot one that makes you smile, and
You feel a little excited at the same time.
You know that it can and will transform
Becoming something more than it is.
And so you watch and wait for something,
You never know what "something" might be.
As you look at changes as it grows and morphs.
But clouds also can and do swiftly fade away.
What was one thing simply becomes nothing or
Changed to something no longer recognizable,
Nor try as you might can you come to understand.
And slowly you remember this truth about clouds:
Clouds are made of water droplets or ice crystals
That floats in the sky; and love is at times mere vapor.

Fleeting moments which cannot be captured,
Never really possessing true permanence.
Those Haiku-like moments that can only  
Be experienced but never touched by hands
But remembered within the poetry of a mind.

At times we all thought
Was he stupid?
His only sin
- Falling in love
With an unfaithful woman
Who became an unfaithful wife.
But he never let that stop him
- From loving her.
So we left him to it.

There are broken minds
In the world
Some that can be healed
We hope and feel.

But among these are still
The unfixable.
Humanity cries for better care.

I believe doctors should
Put the severely addicted
Into medical comas.

They do it for the traumatized.
What could be trauma
More than the soul-deep injury
Of addiction?

"Life can only be seen in relief."
That is what Leonardo said;
"One must not stop at the surface."

Dive below, for no world is small
When you open your eyes wide
To take it all in, analyze the details.

You find that there are the minute
Universes upon universes to explore.
Let the wonder take your breath

Until you have no more.  Leo did.

Our hearts were thumping,
Adrenaline pumping, time racing.
And we knew, we just knew.
We knew there was something
Miraculous, magical happening.

In the dense misty forest shade
We had lain with evening falling,
My head on your cradling arm,
Peeking through canopy leaves.

As a heavy dusk covered us both
We had lain on into the night
While watching the stars rise
And night clouds rolling by
Clinging to each other with deep sighs.

Those who are selling hate as a commodity
Do not care to know that when each person
Is lifted up, regardless of gender or race
We all float to the surface where there is
Room for all.

The spirit of the snow is in the waters
Trickling down the mighty mountains
Flowing into streams, becoming waterfalls.

The spirit of the snow rushes to the sea.
It goes forward to waters bright and shining
To be taken up for next season's snowfall.

That same spirit, ancient, and is in all.

Tumultuous beauty
Like raging waters
Falling over vast cliffs
Into basins of whirlpools

And billowing monoliths
Of dark clouds rushing past
All within a container
Of your human flesh

As I age my imperfections no longer
slap me in the face,
Now they only pat my bottom.

Life is kinder, gentler.
Why is that so?
Because I don't have to care

Unless I really want to.

The union of the sun and moon
Brief embrace, a kiss, departing too soon

A coming together, energy exchanged
Infusing us all, causing eloquent reframes

A phenomenal show eclipsing us all

The sky is gray, today
Imprinted on its face
Marks like ancient text
That when read says
Behind this veil is hope

Just as those in days of old
These too shall fall.
The people said, "Let us build
A tower day by day, hour by hour.
And it will glow, and all will glower
Bringing us magnificence and glory!"
Where is that fabled tower?
Is it not gone, stone by stone?
Just as those in days of old
These too shall fall.

Roethke said
That deep in the roots of flowers
Sunlight is kept. It is their sweet secret.
Truly we will reap what we sow, thus
Make your garden filled with light & love.

I explored,
I circumnavigate your world
And wondered from where you came?
I danced around the moment,
Spoke with raspberry lips,
Stroll up to you, tall, lanky you
With swaying on my hips.

You were older,
So should have known better.
But I tantalized and teased,
Stirred an emotional need
To say the least, physical.
I can still feel the sensations
Of the moment we began.

When you force your thoughts and opinions
On me you are in one sense abusing and ****** me
Your saying is effectively true “It’s my way or the highway.”
At least it is certainly true for tiny minded you.
You will soon be left alone living in your empty mind.

The small pond
By the early light
Of the dawn
Sparks in my heart
A grateful spark

Light begins
And glows upon
Hearts of us all
Human, beast, frog
Down by the pond

In an early light of dawn

My heart holds no reason
Other than this love
Eros fills my senses
Agape guides my way

No reasoning with my heart
Though I talk to it
Love for you remains
Mania, mania, mania

My heart needs no other reason
My love is a golden apple
Ripe for the bite
That your lips might

O, that your sweet lips might

Bright tambourine shaker, where are you?
Shake over me, shake.  Fill this desert!

Sift the sands around my lonely oasis.
Dig up all its well-hidden treasures.

Come into me unfurled, unfettered.
Find the delights, measure by measure.

Searching hands seek to interlace
As vines, among a secret grove, this garden.

The arms of a mighty cedar, you 
Are still strong, though grown old.

Never mind that.  Come home.
Dwell here and stay forever. O, stay!

My nomad, become the vine that wraps me
By the heat of day and cold of night, stay.

Become my incidental canopy of full cover 
For your every whim and unspent pleasure.

I make the music, give the bursting springs
Within this isolated place of treasures.

I wish your feet were little again.
And I could kiss your chubby tiny toes.
Then watch the flutter of your butterfly eyes
And kiss your sweet pug nose.

always commit to your poetry
write them in a book, give them a name
do not leave them like an unwanted child
a child never given a name

revise, rewrite, recommitting each time
even though you rewrite them a hundred times
name and rename, but by all means lay claim

for they are your offspring after all
you have given life, you have birthed them
they are, in the end, only ink on paper
they will not rear up and hurt you, they are you

I see your beauty through cables and wires,
Lines that marked "progress" in other ages.
I watch and wait for you to be wire free,

When suddenly it occurs to me,
You move like musical notes up a scale.
O, play your glorious symphony for me!

As I watch you rise in my sky, shaking free, so bright
Your image is superimposed behind lids closed tight
I may go blind from your splendored beauty.

And see a million suns for all eternity.

It is feeding time.  Time to push the hay
from the back of the truck.  Whistling,
calling for the cows to come up.

I see the morning mist among the cattle,
smell the scent of pine hanging in the crisp air,
in my heart and mind, I want to be there.

The forested pastures, the open grazing fields
wrap around my soul memorized comfort, where
I can reach out to touch and to feel.

As for me, that place will always be there,
yet, it is gone.  Gone for many a year.  All gone,
the pond dried, the forest overtook the fields.

Gone is the truck, the hay, the cattle too.
Yet, my memory is a place where all it lives on.
And memories turn my thoughts to you,
- as they always do;

Beautiful you.  You are gone, too.

It’s not about how high you fly
But how long you can stay in the sky.

Try

So, even if you fall and die
At least you had flown.

Garden of delight
At the eve of dusky-night
Twilight holds no grudge

What if I say the word
Pomegranate
With pouty red lips
Which glistens with its juices?

What if I do?
How would you feel?
Would you grab me,
- hold me close?

Could I illicit a thousand
Breathless sighs?  Could you?
And you taste the sweet drops
- from my lips?

I will say it over and over
And once again!
Pomegranate, pomegranate,
- Pomegranate

Each to each
On tippy toes
They reach
Up and over
Into the
Secret garden
Creep

People the world over are naturally benevolent.
Yet, we are all, at times, foolish beings.

To be damaged is part of the human condition.

One is rarely ruined beyond redemption.
One is only soiled.  No wings required.

Spring is all, "Here I am!" in blooming color.
Summer is like, "I'll warm your bones as no other."
Autumn comes and brings the gold
As it waits for winter to unfold.

Can you feel it?
It started some years ago,
This bloat and rot.
And it is about to infect us all
With its putrid mass.
For you cannot put back
The fetid tissues in the corpse.

There's a little frog
In the garden beds
Beneath my balcony.
Each morning, he greets
With his peep, peep, peep.
A spoonbill crane,
In its rose-colored cloak,
Swoops down to steal
A tasty meal.
But my little frog
Will sing its morning song,
On and on, still.

Author Raymond Chandler left a poem
Only found after his death.  It read:
“There is a moment after death when the face is beautiful
When the soft, tired eyes are closed, and the pain is over.”

The Psalmist said, "For he well knows how we are formed,
Remembering that we are dust."
And, Job cried out, "Remember, please,
That you made me out of clay,
But now you make me return to dust."

Did not Isaiah give insight?
“Your dead will live.
My corpses will rise up.
Awake and shout joyfully,
You residents in the dust!
For your dew is as the dew of the morning,
And the earth will let those powerless in death come to life."

Indeed, there is a certain beauty in the release at death,
And, in the remaining echoes of who we were.
Yet, there is greater beauty in life.
Regenerate, oh, you dust!  Live, again!

He is off the tracks,
Wracked!
He is an utter
******!

A hateful
Hater!
Crazier than
Crazy!

I hear the refrain
Of a distant train
Taking him to the loony-bin.
Toot that horn buddy!

I want to hear it again and again!

A couple of stars wink at me
Amid the clouds of the night sky.
Amid a cloudy and dark night's sky
I see your glow . . .

Amid the clouds of the night sky
A gentle wind whispers, and it calls to me
"Come live among the stars."
A tempting offer . . .

But I will stand and dream of heavenly things
And dream and dream of other things
Watching you amid the clouds of the night sky
As I wink back and sigh.

What lovely sound
The thunder-drums
Which beat across
My horizons

And the gentle sounds
Of pattering rains
Echo through all seasons
And I'm grateful for the reasons

As the gutters overflow
And rushing fill up holes
With nowhere else to go
Spill into ditches and drains

Onward to the sea it slows
So that all can drink and so
On and on the cycle goes
And all earth should know

The reason for love shown

-In the style of Solange Loe-Sack-Sioe, aka Shell

The purest love is often silent.
It speaks volumes without words.
In silent words throughout the day,
It prays.

Do not judge love by its length.
How long is a piece of string?
Love is not a piece of string.
It is a spool of thread that goes on
Unwinding throughout all eternity.
It is untangling, all encircling for those
Fortunate enough to be entangled by it.

The homeless man
Across the way
Is going to wake up
Dead one of these days.

Then like a worm in my brain
It will begin to eat away.
And I will tell everyone
I saw him day by day lay

And rarely move.

Hazy thoughts
Like smoke dissipating

Clung to
Yet too soon fleeting

Like one of your cigarettes
Snubbed out

Whiskey breath
The scents are all I have left

If love were a seed...

I'd plant them all around my garden.
I’d gather them in the harvest
And package them up to give away.
I'd become an urban gorilla gardener
Filling ***** of dirt with many seeds
Then toss them grenade-style
Onto abandoned lots, at passersby, and
Into the hate-filled corners of our world.
I'd give packets of love to family and friends.

If love were a seed, I'd plant it in hearts.

Tiny, almost minuscule. Hollow *****,
The weight of petite feathers, silken sinew,
Sown into tensile strength, beguiling.

Beauty in song. Greater than giants.
Chirping out lovely textiles of golds and silvers;
Strong enough to hold universes in place.

Sweet like sugar. Sweeter than honey, elixir
Of baby's breath.  It ***** in air, exhales
Through an ***** the size of a raindrop,

Pushes out sucrose-laden vibrations
Which pour into my ears, my brain, my heart,
Until we both pulsate in an oscillating Self.

A fearful thing
Has taken wing
And flown straight
Into my heart

The place it pierced
Will forever sting
A bruising wound it creates
Will always leave its mark

And my heart will never heal