the moon was full, so we danced
until our feet no longer hurt.
we danced until we fell, exhausted,
into each other's arms.
the wind was gentle that night.
gentle like a poet's song.
gentle like the memory of your hand
resting softly on mine.
the sun returned, hesitant yet insistent,
like a child waking from a dream.
11/18/2017
eight o’clock
blankets
on six-thirty
floors,
your eyes open
wide sighing
more, more, more.
sighing more.
your nightgown is
sleeping
alone on the
chair
and laughing you
ask me
how did it get
there? sighing
more, more, more.
sighing more.
you want me for
breakfast,
i want you for
lunch,
time is in motion
each moment at
once
sighing more,
more, more.
sighing more.
more.
more.
sighing more.
7/23/12
a kiss brushed
against innocence like a present
neatly wrapped
for a Christmas morning.
the children,
full of anticipation, are unable to sleep
while their
parents downstairs worry about the bills.
there are so many
bills.
perhaps time has
imagination after all,
or at least
energy.
its incessant
plodding and the clocks always ticking, ticking,
drowning out the
sound of your heart
but not the words
you whisper.
such sweet words.
time fails when
we are together.
we slip between
it like waves through the rocks.
another kiss then
until tomorrow,
when it awakens
like an angry sky,
uncertain witness
to our night.
3/8/12
my bed, when you
are away,
is empty and
cold.
your scent fades
from the pillow
like the last
hint of a mountain echo.
i draw the
blankets tight around me
and dream of your
soft skin;
the love in your
eyes.
i know you are
asleep
dreaming your own
dreams,
your hair a dark
storm,
your breath
measured and deep.
you reach out for
me in the emptiness
and i am there.
11/19/11
they say a poem without metaphor
is really just a
personal anecdote,
empty, like a
boat run aground
on an unseen
sandbar,
its crew gone,
seeking other fortune.
you and i walk
down to the marina
and find a bench
where we sit and watch
as other boats
are captained in and out
of the
harbor. Their crews cast
dismissive
glances at the hapless boat.
i wonder though if
they aren’t secretly glad
not to be sharing
that fate.
seagulls circle
above like paparazzi,
annoying,
intrusive and unwilling
(perhaps unable)
to leave. Eventually
the sun sets and
the sky explodes,
a shower of gold
and red.
and our eyes,
then our lips meet,
the poem
complete.
12/13/11
love is the gentle storm that swells the stream,
cutting a path of
life through the dry earth,
setting motion in
motion.
when i look into your eyes i see the wind
nudging a leaf
from its place of solitude
to fall with
quiet determination
into a warmth so complete
it cannot imagine where else it could be.
8/1/11
before the first
light brushed the eastern sky,
my fingers,
waking, touched
the smooth
coolness of your skin
and ten windows
opened into a new world
as if ten
explorers set out with no expectations
but none the less
found their destiny.
6/30/11
our closeness is
no more a thing of chance
than a river,
anxious to reach the next bend.
i see it in your
smile when you rest in my arms.
and hear it in
our whispering voices
when the light of
another day quietly fades.
my arms become
the water you drift in
as your eyes
become my sky,
slowly coming in
and out of focus
as sleep arrives
to lay one dream upon another.
7/15/11
my thoughts of you were like waves
lapping
gently on some foreign shore
where
they may have touched before
but,
as the sun washed over me,
i
lost my memory of when.
i
saw a distant sailboat and wondered
where
was it going? were you on it?
there
were no clouds that day,
only
the song of birds and fishing men
i played Adam to your Eve,
accepting the
apple you offered.
at the crisp
sound of my first bite
a hint of a smile
crossed your face.
which original sin
were you contemplating?
the morning sun
rose to kiss a summer sky
as clouds,
blushing pink, looked on
without regret
i leaned in to
answer your lips' sweet request.
6/4/11
you reach deeper into the night than i,
your mind finding
quiet ways
to amuse itself
with my sleeping hands
as your gentle
eyes
cover me like a
soft blanket.
yet even as i
sleep i dream we are dancing,
slow and close, our
bellies barely brushing.
and each day i
awaken to a greater understanding
of why the sun
rises.
6/30/11
