dressed-up night her in dazzling blue me dumbstruck
For years now, I have loved her Somewhat imperfectly; We live and share a space, but have Our times of sparsity, When there is not that much to give, And even less to make: We do go on together, though, To overtake The problems that attend our lives Are such as all may see: The … Continue reading "Overtake"
sight and texture light and feel of turning every shadow present somewhere touching reaching towards and in beyond mere wishes out to where we find perfection in its lonely garb disguised as someone known and some place familiar
IN YEARS made out of water have we spent Our days on thoughts of things impermanent; We've wasted energy and time and space On stuff both overseen and underwent. We have had moments true and pure in grace: The words spent life-to-life and face-to-face That spread inside the two of us like wings -- The … Continue reading "Years Made Out of Water"
and now you tell a different truth in whimsy, sheets, and secret fire; i'm not meant to understand why oftentimes, in our desire, we cannot see or reason to or reason thorough, or at all -- for lies can be a different truth and therein lies my rise and fall
always moving, always changing, centered in a universe others may find strangely present, ranging like a shepherd's purse, aftermath, and mid-september, dark and light in mixed array -- always moving, always changing, always something more to say
In all the years and pictures, In all the days and ways, There's always, living, what there was That set my life ablaze I cannot quite explain it, It lives within me still, And though it sometimes burns me, I'll never get My fill
I liked her when I saw her, but Was old enough to know That what seems right may not be right -- That looks are sometimes show. But when I spent some time with her, I found a heart and mind above -- I liked her when I saw her, true. But it was knowing … Continue reading "I Liked Her When I Saw Her"
sometimes, the sadness steals away her heart. there's things inside her i don't, and can't, know: for though i love her, there's a separateness that closeness keeps, both precious and untouched. there are no words to cheer, no balm to heal: there's only presence: doing what we can and trusting that means something, in the … Continue reading "sometimes, the sadness"