Contemplating Emily Dickenson on an unseasonably cold and wet Tuesday Afternoon in May (5/17/11)

Thinking about the thing with feathers that Emily spoke of so long ago

as she sat, alone, in her curtained room

Did she know about all she missed

A lover's breath upon her neck as they become one

It's possible to know what you've never had

Don't I know about that thing with feathers, taking flight against all odds

Did she dare to dream of love, the touch of a hand upon her heart

alone in her curtained room, so long ago

Do I dare believe in that thing with feathers

alone in this rented room,

as I contemplate Emily Dickenson

on an unseasonably cold and wet Tuesday afternoon in May

Yes, I dare

A Comfort (7/28/11)

She thinks of me, she says, as she lies in his arms

Closing her eyes as his lips are on her neck

but her thoughts are of me

There is a comfort in that, I suppose

in the uncertain knowledge of her words

For she is my water and I am in this parched hot place

She comes in flooding fury, Spring tide heights

Salt sting tears to my eyes, receding too quickly

Wet sand clinging to bare feet,

forgotten moments, whispered prayers

And she thinks of me, she says

waking in the night to another man's touch

A comfort, I suppose

8/2/11

A fading light

As shadows grow across once bright day

The flicker of a guttered candle

incandescence once bright, now dimmed to passing

Yet still, always, there is love

Long after all else is gone

Glowing still, shining on, a beacon to memory

Held precious, to guide us all home

Passing (8/9/11)

From hand to hand

Gentle touch moving silence

Held in this leaky vessel before moving on

To something, what not known

But here once, part and whole

Passing now, yet remembered always

The remnant of love is still love

What remains to us

passing gently

from hand to hand

The Distance, 12/8/10

How can I hold your hand
When you're so far away
Protect you, through your bad nights
with this distance that separates us
The cold comfort of the telephone
cannot make up for the warmth of another
beside you
The distance between us
Not just of space and years
Made of hurt and fear
and all the things that needle the soul
How can I kiss your lips
When you're so very far away

The Kiss of Winter (for K) 11/23/10

The kiss of winter
Passing lightly upon my lips
Not perhaps the extremes of her world
White and hard and clear
Rather it is a shifting
A subtle variation in shade
Slate blue to charcoal gray
A lengthening of shadow
Still I feel the fall
and the coming season
Chilly mornings, short days
In every breath
Steaming from my lips
The kiss of winter
Passing lightly
In the beginning of the day

Common Wisdom, 11/18/10

"Why can't things ever be easy?" She says
In the common wisdom of the everyday
Common wisdom, common truth
As I try to find our place
Three points on a map
Triangulations of the human heart
As we worry about the mundane
Leaving tomorrow to come
Here already, lurking in the bushes
Ready to announce its presence
To tear the world apart
Chemical reactions to unwanted growth
Common wisdom, common truth
I only wish I could release this sadness
Let it flow through my fingers and scatter to the ground
Fling it away with a fury
To be free of it for once
Still it clings, like sand
holding close to the intimate places
Itching and chafing and declaring itself
"Did you think I was gone? I will not be ignored!"
And she says, "Why can't things ever be easy?"
Why indeed