The Other Side of It

I was an experiment.

My ‘feeling hurt’ has made you quite defensive,
You’re angry that I fell in love with you;
I had no right, because you never loved me,
I realize all that now. But still, it’s true

That I must grieve a dream that only I had,
And grow hot in the foolishness I feel;
To know that what I came to hope and cherish
Was nothing in your eyes,
And never

This Lonesome Tree

This bayou opened to the bay
Which opened to the sea;
We sat as children in our love
Beneath this lonesome tree

They said we couldn’t know of love
Too young of years were we;
And yet true lovers we were then
If ever lovers be

This spot remains as then it was,
As in my memory;
The smell and taste of love’s first kiss
This lonesome


(“This Lonesome Tree” – 4-21-2015)

An Echo In The Forest

From across a far ravine.

An echo in the forest
From across a far ravine;
The last words that you said to me
In memory still green

An echo in the forest
That my lonesome ears discern:
The sound of your departing
Knowing you would not



for her, there were his hands…

for her, there were his hands

always moving
making or fixing
caressing or 
filling her with desire

their lives a painting
with his portions
done with those fingers

colors of passion
aggravation and regret
splattering, smearing

he left his life
all over her


he left his life


(“Splattered” – 6-9-2015)

again today

i will be asked again today
how is it you’re not there
i know i won’t know what to say
so i will merely stare

again today, green-gray and clear
the same misjudgment will begin:
that there’s a soul inside this skin
because my body’s here

that there’s a soul inside this skin
because my body’s here

(“again today” – 4-28-2015)

Why Do You Mourn?

Why do you mourn, my rueful friend,
And sit there, bleary-eyed?
We’re all alive and moving here —
It’s only hope that died —

Why do you boil with your tears
That fall so straight and true?
And why do you long for one who doesn’t
Long at all for you?

A Certain Kind of Trouble

The kind of trouble that she was
I’d never known in all my days;
But found in new and countless ways
That trouble is as trouble does

Entrancing in her loveliness,
And seemingly so soft and sweet:
I found her virtue truly fleet,
For she, at heart, was pitiless

Our troubles take a certain shape.
I sought, from her, a higher ground:
But when I breathed her in, I found
A trouble I could not