If you should go before me,

I’ll re-read every line you ever wrote to me,

every thought we shared so late at night,

the daily noise of our existence,

condensed into keystrokes by weary fingers

I’ll see, in every moonlit glade,
and every time 
there are no shadows in the trees,
that special light that always made you shine,

like bright little stars suspended in a globe filled with oil,
shimmering with delight and forgiveness,

waiting patiently to climb the wick

and burn my fingers when I strike the match


And I’ll hear your music,
which you never knew I listened to,

not with my ears, but with my heart,

and it will soothe me to dreamless slumber

when tears soak my pillow in endless twilight


I’ll remember every hungered kiss and every time
you found me hiding under our oak and scolded me
for putting off the work I should have been doing

I won’t put it off any longer
There’ll be nothing left for me but work
All the world gone grey, the mists
 of my memories
like a blanket
 smothering my tomorrows

But I won’t leave when you have gone

I will pay the tab for the time you gave,
finish everything we planned that autumn morn,
before I lock the gate behind me,
and follow breadcrumbs scattered on the loam

I was given, at my first birthday party,
a gift sublime, a lovely, lush garden
I played among its fonts and flowers,
traded baseball cards with Atlas and Athena,
rolled in high grass with iridescent dragons

Then one fine day through leaflets high,
I spied a fat juicy fig, haloed by Summer sun
The tree was poison, I knew, its sweet fruit
most likely bad as well, but in my arrogance
I climbed the trunk, got tangled in its branches

I lost control, lost something never truly held,
and fell, through viney snarls and vicious thorns
Fell farther than I ever rose, to putrid death,
moldered slime beneath the canopy
of verdant paradise on gentle hillside above

I crawled about in mud and earthen warrens
Slowly, year by year, learned to walk again
But arrogant I remained—had not my
lesson learned, and so I doubled-down,
made mockery of this chance for redemption

All the sweet virgins did I ****, and teach
our children sin, in crystalline waters
I did shat on mulched fields, amber and green,
with cigarette butts and baggies blowing
listless on Autumn winds

When Winter finally came, as winters must,
to **** off weakened souls, and make
the garden ready for new attendants,
I did not learn, I did not take the blame...
It's Him, I cried, I have not power to do this!

But then my youngest daughter sobbed
She watched, sadly, out clouded, grimy windows
and, looking up at my limpid, sullen eyes
crawled into my arms one last, lonely time
to face what I could not...

Behold, the Silent Spring

Going up or coming down,
be not dizzy going ‘round
On the roof or on the staircase,
always seeking, often loving
Let our hearts be light and true,
never trapped nor earthly-bound
Meet me often in the spiral,
meet me once on hallowed ground
There our cares shall be forgotten,
there our sweet embrace be found
There our final song be spoken,
there our eulogy be sung
Let the bells toll out our courage,
let the mourners cry aloud
We won't be there, will we darling,
we won’t stay to hear the sound
They may linger in remembrance,
we'll be dancing on a cloud

It’s 6:24 on a Thursday morn,
and I can hear the city workmen
carting off the broken pieces
of our throw-away lives,
the stained and ***** secrets
we thought we got rid of so easily
by simply tossing them into those bins
thoughtfully provided for the purpose
But we never think about where it all ends,
our broken pieces and soiled yesterdays,
piled together in a field somewhere,
waiting patiently to become the soil
that nourishes our tomorrow

An empty urn,
the barren bowl,
a vase awaiting
one pregnant rose

A table barren
of knight's tableau,
stools surrounding
in retched repose

An earthen mug,
Pan's pool in spring,
a coin no longer
worth its weight

Each grounded in its
reason, spherically
precluding its sin—
That ringing at the gate

A life-lived-not falters,
yet blindly clings to fate,
blind Themis holds in
balance still, the cup—
She chose too late

On this our past, our now, our future turn about the wheel,
your footprints follow mine as mine retrace your own
All else is mist and prism flash and cymbal crash undone
We stare at one another in our clear-eyed search for truth,
intensely seeking silence midst kaleidoscopic lies
Yet why should we not covet daily pleasures offered thus,
gaily painted wooden ghosts, phantasms of rainbow scent
in broken mirrored boxes of conceit and lust—hypnotic dance
Our journey shoes worn thin with waltzing past the image,
we stop, but moving still as two when worldly passions call
A ripple in the haze, and candles shoot like rockets spraying
both of us with fire that never burns, too cold a flame
to catch our racing victory lap apart, and yet we cry as one:

You are my eyes.  When you see, I dream

You are my lips.  When you smile, I laugh

You are my heart. When you are in pain, I bleed

You are my voice.  When you speak, I sing

You are my hands.  When you touch, I feel

You are my soul.  When you have faith, I live

You are my love in many ways too great for
Heaven’s test, but still I wonder, would I fail
to gather water for your journey, if we but only kissed

Her need, her dream, my southern love's,
to walk once more the crystal sand,
and lead the sun toward winter’s end

Returning east, she sings my blood,
leaves Riojan wine on my tongue,
her breath of spring and tangerines

Bright northern star did fail its quest,
to hold her fast in autumn's mist,
so now she runs, runs to me in ev’ning

Westerly, her eyes turn to sunset gold,
and so my heart stands where it never left,
in summer’s azure glow, and new beginnings

She walks, as in a dream,
far, far away, my south,
my summer heart, my life

A distant star, my north,
has taken winter's heart,
another sort of light, my life

The farthest shore, my west,
the heart of autumn's love,
sheds leaves and scattered raindrops

Come back, my life, my east,
the spring awaits your heart,
the crystal shore, your love

A relic, so I once thought
Then no, I must have come early,
too soon to the party without a gift
But I took breath, reckless,
coughing out the past,
future leaking away wetly
And I knew then I was made this way,
imperfectly perfect for this place,
this universe alone, just now—
Never out of time

The watchful gaze shone down,
and then the blade, deep and swift…
Made even gentle bloodied sunrise,
too terrifying for my eyes

Days in hiding came to nights where,
sleep superfluous, I slept not…
Until I shed that sacrificial skin,
now poisoned, now unholy, now thin

And seeing it no longer as my own,
I marveled at its hoary creeds, barnacles…
Its gruesome rust of well-intentioned lusts,
turned water swift to clinging mud

Now free of age, of sins partaken,
a naked Adam in a sweet garden…
Timeless, weightless, a sanctity of soul,
natural man, new-made, now whole

What may be this stormy brilliance
come upon my weary watch
Oh what fresh'ning wind befall me
on this perilous small yacht

Shall I shelter in calm harbors,
set a course for un-adventure,
reef my sails, take in the main,
keep it safe for my debenture

Or is mine the priceless treasure
on some island beach I'll find,
if I rig my weather mainsail,
and prepare my boat for rime

Set the genoa to run out,
shift my rudder to the force,
let the weather take a free turn,
let the helmsman plot the course

So be still my racing heartbeat,
be thee calm my apprehension,
give me over to these winds that blow,
it could only cost pretension

Must a boy become a man, paint a lifetime
with sparkly night colors gray on gray,

the time it takes to spill blood and tears
listless onto 
one sandy, macadam street

Chase him,
he’ll turn on you

Confront him,
he’ll fight

Shoot him,
you came ready
 to ****,
to feel hard flesh
 surrender,
slacken,
heart flutter,
pressure lost

The street knows, drawn with chalk,
what difference lies between man and boy
Which is which, when dawn breaks,
and why do angels 
weep at night unheard….

You called to me within your dreams...
I came to you from other times,
jumped lightly down from far off hills
to moving paths of spectral light, swam
brave 'gainst currents swift and yet,
can't make this final leap to Now

I speak to you each night in sleep...
You wouldn't know my voice, but
hearing yours like one's own heart
beat cadence in two rhythms
Can't you yet feel the throb, shifting
mountains deep within the Earth

All you need do is touch my past...
Blend mine with yours in kindness
One swift kiss becomes a torrent,
and suddenly I'm real as dawn,
no longer trapped in shadowlands,
and so like this you're freed from Yours

We played the games for weeks on end,
‘cross time and space, with spirits bold
Your spectral teases sparking flames,
and casting thus a spell to hold
You won, yet so did I....
Eschewing 
***** treats for purest gold
My own desire, that you would share
your secret dream, your inner hope

You asked each starry night,
what prize of you I sought
But worry not, I’d only want
what never could be bought
That’s not so much, but maybe, yes—
a moment’s touch, a tender kiss
A boon for one who’d be your knight,
if you’ll dare ride the wild hunt

Your alpha wolf, your eagle king,
your phoenix guarding treasured love
Lust’s a simple charm to banish fear—
fear not my darling, we shall thrive
I saw a vision of my prize, a dream,
of you and me supine on crystal shores
On beaches far, in azure seas we swam,
lovers joined ‘neath countless stars

I lay with you awhile, not long enough,
told fairy tales and kissed your lips
Made love and rolled on golden sand,
then took our leave on ghostly ships
So take my tickets darling, take my heart
so wildly beating, quickly to your breast
I’ll wait for you to turn your gaze on me,
then challenge fate to love you last and best

It's early in the day—
I can do this if I hurry,
take it down before the sevens
turn the day to tens and twos....
I had the strangest dream
early by the eve's dark light
I don't remember much,
wasn't meant to, not at all
I don't think so, lest I tell—
Risk a future where that night
becomes a well-remembered past
I don't remember much at all....
Might I fathom only feelings,
and the gift she offered me—
But one image yet remains,
like halos 'round and 'round
the summer moon at midnight,
before a wetted morn in fall....
That photograph remembered,
figure lithe and gayly dancing,
clothed only in soft light,
dusky grey and silver dawn....
Her truth, my joy, and proof—
Living proof that we believed

What happens the first instant
after our world's end
Is everything still, the pendulum
that lost its surly swing

Does the carven clock sit idle,
not quite enough cuck
to manage one more koo—
But still there’s something left

Or is it a different sort of spring,
not then unwinding fate
But coiling tightly, tighter still
until it snaps, breaks free

Destroys the maker’s hand,
rips down the veil of heaven
And damning every prophet,
sheds wild starlight, wand'ring still

One day, my love
for you is going to break my heart
Not in the ordinary way,
when people grow tired of love,
or bored, or are taken away by someone
or something new
Because it goes like this….

I’ll be walking along, thinking thoughts,
and suddenly it will come to me that
I don’t remember, exactly, the last time
I thought of you, and in that moment,
that moment I never want to arrive,
I’ll be truly sad, inconsolable
Sadder even than the day I looked at you,
and saw that you no longer look at me
as if you are the luckiest girl in the world
*Because I know how love works

When first you baked for me,
I devoured them like a greedy child,
as if it were my birthday,
yet I was lonely at the party
Now just one last sweet morsel remains,
all I can ponder is sharing with you,
taking your hand when you reach for it,
never letting go the touch of angel’s fire
Then I see you aren’t really here to hold,
chance gone, ship sailed, die cast,
another weak metaphor lost in transit,
fickle words betray me once more
Why then does such feeling persist,
even grow, make a deeper vessel to fill,
build bridges, scale mountains,
cross great seas of doubt and regret
Can it simply be to see the other side,
what would have been, our voices joined,
had different scripts been chosen,
brighter worlds explored together
There is no choice, no magic balm,
I must eat the last cookie alone,
tread brazenly my fated path,
watch you walk yours so fiercely,
And roar exultant from the hill

So tell me a story, love, sing it to me once....
It’s already written, at least the opening lines
Tell me how a prince becomes a king
with only a word from his true queen
How a nymph becomes a goddess,
her children, their children, little gods
gathered at her feet like tiny wild saints 
beseeching their Madonna for a smile
Tell me how he waited, ages out of time,
longing for that kiss of raven and snow, 
and rubied lips just barely parted
How golden eyes set loose his charm 
from uncounted days of longing lust
Tell me how they invented passion
on sands of coral pink, and unsated, taught it 
to the mermaids in foamy waters nearby
How their hearts beat solidly together,
and their bodies left the earth as mists
in their unguarded moments, hard won
So tell me that story, darling, cry on me
when you hurt, and bite my lips hard
when you kiss me, I won’t flinch from pain
I know the story far too well to judge
Have known it deep within, never saying,
but never forgetting, phrase or verse
of its cloudy image, adrift in time, alone,
the looking glass of every hope of mine

Do I bleed because
I hold the lovely rose,
Or is the rose so lovely
because I bleed to hold it

What I want to say to you,
I've done in so many tongues,
my native one terrified of hope....
Languages at my beck and call,
frivolous reminders that I'm nobody
of importance, except perhaps
when you look at me, when you turn
your faerie eyes my way, I tremble,
consumed by senses I knew not to exist
just yesterday, yet now I find my self-
importance laid waste, I'm just a silly
bard, singing silly rhymes, and then,
and only then, I know I have to sing
my silly verses with respect, for that
is how I want you to hear them

But when the time is right, when
the moon cries on autumn leaves,
I want to be your bard, your song,
to be your smile, to be your wine….  

May sweetness drip upon your lips,
let softest zephyrs lift your hair
A poet’s hand to hold in yours,
a poet's voice caress your soul….

And when the singing time is done,
when shadows flee to winter's end
When springtime's blossoming’s begun,
the summer poet's song is sung….

When Shadowlands’ dark moon’s arisen,
my joy you’ll be to sing my heaven
And when my kiss has gather’d yours,
then love’s not lost—in truth, is given

The air I breathe this morning,

wafted through your room last night,

crept in on cat’s paws softly,

caressed your rising breast,

took something from your heart,

left faint glowworms in its wake,

sought out my desolation and,

washed me gently in your grace

Would all our paths be so sublime,
and beauty fill our blessed time
Yet rocky trails seem always
on our minds, so I’ll follow you
on yours, and you on mine….

I walked my route from dawn to sleep,
seeing much, and missing more,
the days were long and costly,
with dreams between, some troubling,
some deep, and heard the music playing
Softly it sang to me from somewhere
just behind, and so I turned,
and seeing a soft blue light, I stared,
more closely than I dared,
and found an angel standing there
"Have you been following me," I asked
“All your life and more,” she said
“Are you my angel,” I wondered, not aloud
But, "I’m not yours, you cannot keep an angel”
Just then I noticed the girl,
the one whose hand the angel held,
and surely as the moon cries on broken waters,
I knew she meant more to me than life
I knew not who she was, but remembered
her lovely face, had seen her in my dreams

“What’s your name,” I whispered, 
“You’re lovelier than stardust”
“Joy,” she whispered back to me,
“And stardust’s what I am, and so are you"
“Why have you been following me,” I asked
“But it’s you who’ve followed me,” she said
Suddenly, the world turned blue and green,
and crimson-hued, and shifted in its orbit,
stars redirected their intent….
It woke me from my dream, but nothing changed,
only my perspective, and I saw that it was true,
what she had said, we’d been following
each other, and so, for a long while, we walked 
our paths together, and ventured to hold hands
And when we did, the veil was pushed aside,
and everything (not quite, but enough) came clear,
and I saw beside me a being of the Light,
of reddish tint, whose eyes seemed to shine
He looked everywhere, at me, at Joy, at the 
angel beside her, and at the endless road before us

“Are you my angel,” I asked, this time aloud
“I’m not yours but I’m here for you,” he replied
And I knew from memories so far behind, his Name
“You’re the singer, aren’t you,” I dared to question
“Not just yours, but your companion’s too”
"The path before you, yours and Joy’s,
will need much light and love and music, too
You two have far to go together, never let her go”
And then and there I resolved, that even when 
she didn’t know it, I’d hold her tight
I learned my name that day, while angels
walked beside us, the name I never knew 
before but sought from every corner
of the world, in every place of beauty and of sin
I’d been seeking truth, but my search 
should have been within, not without, 
For I was called Truth, and Truth and Joy
were meant to walk the universe together
You cannot find one without the other,
and together they made a child,
that eternal child called Love

For as much as you are my Joy,
would that I could be your Truth
Side by side and hand in hand,
I want only to walk with you

She said to me, at 3 am, that I wasn’t over it,
that I’d not truly forgiven, not even myself,
because I still remembered the details
of what I thought I needed to forgive.....
With that, she sent me to my bed, told me
it was late, and it was, and so I slept,
and dreamt of starlit seas and oceans of them above
No clear horizons between them, separate still they remained,
with no reason for one to resent the other's beauty
When I awoke, to late summer sun so warm,
I wondered, that I couldn't think of why....
Why she'd so rarely cried in front of me
And then I let the thought, the tattered, misty thought,
scatter in wispy tendrils into oblivion, burning away cleanly,
like the last, ragged bits of an early morning fog