Trying to Understand Is Worth It
my imperfections i place in your hands.
with you, i can’t idealize myself –
for what i am, i open up to you,
and strip away far more than simple clothes
connection & acceptance are my hope;
to feel you’ve brought your whole life here with you,
and that you may, on knowing who i am,
move off, in finding me not to your taste
but here, withal that may be put at risk
i ask your imperfections show, as well
When she looks
I know,
When I know,
I’m somewhere beyond
Happy
Across the room a wooden table
Yellow tea lights flicker
The night is gathering her dress
To go amid the stars
And we in silence find abundance
Through the skylight glowing
As shadows dance across the bed
And every sound is ours
For we are physical and mental
Full emotions churning
And yet are centered to our core
To lie among the still
And see the lights of years ago
By our few candles burning
To feel how close the far away
Can be when we just will
I photograph a rainbow —
I photograph a rainbow
Through a gray and drizzly haze;
And think: while we communicate
A thousand different ways,
The conversation we might have
Is fragmented, corrupted:
For we now never have one that’s
Not some way interrupted
And out there, past the windshield
In the aether, lives get crossed —
The rainbow goes unseen
Beyond
The intimacy
Lost
the light can change,
we see things differently.
perhaps
what was and wasn’t
meant to be.
but i know this:
you left me still a man,
and though there’s little else
i understand,
i wish you well
wherever you might be,
for light can change
those few things we
can see
it happened when it happened and
i didn’t really understand
the reasons that you needed and
you wanted such a man
as happened to be sitting there,
and thinking overmuch:
but what the eyes cannot believe
is soon proved true
to touch
the days i still recall
as much as any nights;
but men don’t think that way,
so women say
misunderstanding runs
while sympathy still limps,
and yet, it doesn’t have to be
that way
i think that i know well enough
the boundaries and lines
that we must have to shield off
who we are
yet days i still recall,
as much as any nights —
the lunches more than just
the caviar
