I've learned one piece of truth
Within my old, benighted niche:
If ignorance was currency,
We'd all be very rich.

For people traffic in it, daily,
Proudly, even so --
The more they talk or type it seems
The less they need to know.

But self awareness is a very
Scarce commodity
In times when just reflecting is
A noted oddity.

A thing that's oft repeated
Isn't thereby proven true;
But if being an echo is
The thing you want to do,

Then welcome to today. You'll fit in fast,
And be surprised,
How when you say the slogans,
You are taken as

Quite wise

“The Thing in Itself”

She first escaped at twenty-three.
A bicycle, a battered van,
A life that she could taste, because
She sampled it, at her own pace and where.

She felt the wind upon her neck,
And her own tongue within her mouth,
The ache of stretching, working limbs
That carried her the whither she would go.

A weathered book of Kierkegaard,
A necklace made of icy gold,
And one September when she had
No answers, nor desire to provide them.

And who was I? Just one regret.
A place she’d traveled to, and cried;
A type of warning of the life
She’d never settle for in place of freedom.

So, now there is a woman grown,
Who owns a bicycle no more,
Who’s seen her own two daughters go
And wanted to impart this gift, this lesson —

But cannot find the proper words
To speak of strength in time alone
That do not sound like hectoring
Or lessons quaint and from an era gone...

For night means nothing
If you’ve missed the day;
And love is only possible
If you have your own self
To give


What Wasn’t

There's those who stand in judgment
Of everything that's past
From platforms made of rectitude
And stones so bravely cast

Towards a time, now silent,
That can't defend its ways;
But maybe it's been ever so.
I know it's so, these days --

What wasn't, can't be talked about.
And now, what isn't thought
Is human commonality:
How even our best is fraught

With good intentions, soon to be
Destroyed by future mavens,
Reducing us to categories
From cloistered online havens

When what were was so much more:
To suffer, in the end,
Reductionism's careless way
Of killing us


Now, When I Remember You

To tell the story of a life
Takes many pages, many words;
To tell the story of a love
Takes every bit as long

The you I saw in summer fields
Beneath an endless weightless sky
The you I felt in tenderness
The softness of your skin, a sigh

For now, when I remember you
There is a novel in my mind;
The beauty of your memory
Is always young, and brave, and kind

There's beauty in the world, I know,
But I thought I had lost it then:
You walked into the room, and I
Became the mindfulest of men

But this - this was not me at all
This was all you, and love; it was
A type of wakeful dreaming where
I did not want to wake, because

Your magic was in everything.
If ever a man loved, I did:
I cherished every moment, and
I lay awake at night and bid

The minutes slow their very march.
To lengthen time, our time, so much
As possible; to see your eyes
To stroke your hair, to softly touch

Your skin beneath your summer dress.
To love you there with all my heart;
Your words of warning in my ears
That love is short and lovers part.

A life, my life, what is it now?
It's just a cold and fading fire
A soon forgotten flickering
Of what was once raging desire

And all for you, my long true love -
Who taught me wonder in the night,
Whose hand I took to cross the bridge
Of leaving off and doing right

The day is closing in, and I
Put down my pen, and rest a while -
For now, when I remember you
I shiver once, and lastly

(“Now, When I Remember You” – 6-25-2015)

Oh, My Love…

Oh, my love, the world goes by,
The night nears gone, the day draws nigh,
And I am wandering alone —
In a speeding blur, in my seat alone.

Oh, my love, there’s a certain buzz,
Like a great beyond, or the big because:
Where discovery’s not a fearful thing,
And words are more feeling than parroting.

For the world won’t stop for mistakes I’ve made:
The moments of anger, or words that lied —
All the tickets punched are the price I’ve paid,
Like the seat to my right that’s unoccupied —

Oh, my love, if you hear me now,
Know I’m trying my best to be who you thought
I could be in the days when the world seemed slow,
And acceptance was found where it wasn’t sought,

And we could control where we meant to go —
Oh my love, my love, I still wish

It was so