Love Shots 1

First Italian eating
Off each other’s plates then
A walk around a place you
Used to run a shop then
A talk in the car about
What’s coming up soon that
We each need to know then
A shower and a song and a shower
And dark tonal zealotry where
We duel over the chance to
Occupy the same space

And both win

A Far And Favored World

Come to a far and favored world,
Where guide-less friends can meet
To walk among the singing stars
And smell the apples sweet

That hang from rich and luscious boughs
Along both hill and fen —
Yes, come to a far and favored world,
Where we can start again.

Come to a red and dusky place
Within the inner rim,
Where music’s sung by everything,
A universal hymn —

Come to river, come with me,
The sunrise never ends,
Come to a red and dusky place
Where we can still be friends.

Once, we sang for our supper when
These worlds were unexplored —
Once, you could trust the things I said,
And you could rest assured

That I would be where I said I was.
Yes everything was fine:
But that was before the great divide.
The fault – all of it’s mine.

Here on a far and favored world
It is my fate to stay
In all of it I wish that you could see,
But you won’t come today,

For everything broken, all that’s lost
Wherever all you are —
For here on a far and favored world
Your favor will

Stay far

walking dream

the morning shyly moves away
in waves of mist and cream;
and i move damp with spray and sand
into a walking dream

the dimly cast horizon sits
beyond the veil of sight;
where time stands loosely, hands by sides,
and day melds into night

your breath i hear, your touch i feel,
as light as feathered gauze;
the scent of ocean waves and kelp,
as hope – with its own laws

and so the mists of morningside
surround and pierce through me;
the walking dream of one who’s still
at one with
destiny

No Sunset

So, what is real? It’s not these memories:
The halt, spasmodic assays of my past
Are pictures now, hung up in galleries,
Some early chapters, neither best nor last.

For love is not a happening. It is
A work of many choices, many deeds;
It is the touch that bears us through our grief,
The careful stitches to the heart that bleeds.

And you — you are the realest whom I’ve known:
A gentleness someway both fierce and strong,
And as the years have gone — and some have flown —
Love stronger grows the more that it grows long.

    There is no sunset I would rather see
    Than any with you still here next to me

A Resonance

I heard across the span of years the sea.
A younger smaller form of you-and-me:
Our latent powers weakened by the storm,
Each pressured in our ways to fold, conform —

But on that shore, we held to skin on skin,
Our bronze desire: to escape again
Into a world we hoped we could make last,
And be unchained from still more distant past.

But on the brink, a sudden hesitance;
The sea-sound of our hearts, a resonance
That echoed over shores where blue turned gray,
And blew our fragile happening

Away

Real, Love

(While at the hospital two years ago for the birth of our new grandson, I spoke to a father whose daughter was undergoing chemotherapy. These were his words.)

So I cannot cease,
Nor can rest,
Knowing you’re in pain –

I would do and I
Would undo
So many things now

My child: if I could
Somehow trade
Places with you here —

My heart lies open:
Why can’t I
Save you like I should?


8-22-2015