It’s Not The Bricks…

All the days that were —
All the food cooked on this grill —
All the times that went:
For time just moves on, as it will —

But once, there were two hands
That labored here with love,
It’s not the bricks and mortar that
Such mem’ries are

Made of

Asylum Cat

When I was the insane asylum –
Where poets belong –
There was also a cat living there.

Unlike Christopher Smart’s cat,
This one seemed ignorant of theology.
Unless you consider being affectionate
A theological virtue, which
I do.

Being officially crazy at the time –
Because I had paperwork saying so –
Talking to the cat was not
Frowned upon.

I would say, rather,
It was encouraged;
Or, at least,
Encouraged a lot more
Than sleeping with
The nurses.

Not that I ever did that,
Even while officially crazy.

Instead, I went to therapy,
And talked to the cat,
Whose name ought to have been
But wasn’t, because
No one there knew that story.

When I told it to them,
They just looked at me

Like I was crazy

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)

Upon the stillness of the lake…

Upon the stillness of the lake,
Within the colors of the dusk,
We sat and joined our tired hands
In mute appreciation –

Upon the lake in language terse,
We wrote a bit cryptic verse,
Affirming, if we died that hour,
We’d shared one


A Memory

Here’s my daughter and her friend
Waiting for the wave to fall;
Moments just before it hit —
Laughter, soon to peal in scads

Days I wished would never end –
Blue-green sea, and sky o’er all:
Having fun in all of it —
With girls (now women) who still needed

A Dating Memory

I wanted to seduce her with my wit;
She started laughing at my clumsiness.
I thought, “I’ll let my style do the bit” –
Then knocked over the wine, and made a mess

She came towards me with a yellow towel,
And I no more my laughter could abate:
Then her eyes shone when I laughed at myself
And I had done enough
For a first


(“A Dating Memory” – 7-5-2015)