I went to the Cordon Bleu
And my name is Pierre
I work in the kitchen
I’m a French chef extraordinaire

With fine French food
My name is synonymous
But I am an addict
I attend McDonalds Anonymous

When I make a quiche
I just want to hug it
But I keep getting cravings
For a Chicken McNugget

Fast food or French food
I am conflicted
Fast food or French food
Yes I am addicted

The 12-step program
Keeps me on track
I have to fight my desire
To binge on Big Mac

I pretend I’m a food snob
My life’s full of lies
When I buy burgers
I must wear a disguise

I should come out of the closet
Admit my transgressions
Then they would accept me
For my fast food obsessions

Maybe the other chefs
Would heap me with praise
If I smothered my Big Macs
With Sauce Hollandaise

In an instant the sparkle showered me
Bathed in light and energy
Flowing flowing a waterfall of emotion
A connection stretching back in time
A piercing silence
Cloaking me in her calm
Her doors had been cast aside
Unexpected candor, laughter lilting
And bouncing, catching me off guard.
She wasn’t hiding behind the bush
Or running from tree to tree
She stretched the moments
Filled them with spirit
Flew to the rafters and beckoned me to join
I melted in her eyes, molten joy
Ready to be molded
Precious shapes, rare forms
Unknown beings.
I trusted her hands
Gripped me with delicacy
And a lightness of life.
That moment became a day
And that day will not end.

It was a glass of liquid sunshine
If I were to believe the waiter
My senses would be flooded
With essence of vanilla and
Glimpses of the land.
There would notes of citrus,
Faint odor of old leather
And deep berries would overwhelm.
If I shut my eyes
I could relish the peppery finish
And the buttery after taste.
I would be a fool to overlook
The healthy dose of tannin
Balancing the sweet cherry, plum and cassis.
The wine swirled in my glass
The fragrant bouquet filled my nose
I’d be lying if I said
The anticipation didn’t create
A certain aura of arousal.
Not just the sunshine in this glass
But all four seasons inhabited
My crystal goblet,
And the sheltering moonlight
Was in there too.
This wine surely has character
Like Gandhi or Churchill perhaps.
And legs. What legs.
Slender and vibrating
Long and glistening
I could stare at those legs
Until dessert.
Having passed the cork test,
All eyes were upon me
Lifting the bowl of undulating liquid
To my lips.
I sipped.

She’s lovely and petite,
Long flowing blonde hair,
The target of constant
Unwanted attention,
The **** of many crude jokes.
Though you can’t deny it
There is a kernel of truth
To every stereotype.
Shallow. Yes she is shallow.
Shallow as the flood waters
Three inches deep, powerful
Enough to sweep your car
Into a watery grave.
Superficial. Yes she is superficial.
Superficial as the thin layer
Of paint on a Renoir or Monet
Colors translucent and divine
Deep and lustrous
Transporting the imagination
To a world of romance and joy.
Clueless. Yes she is clueless.
Clueless as Sherlock Holmes
As he solves a mystery as dark
And complex as any labyrinth
With nary a clue, save for a trail
Of breadcrumbs and a scent of
Gardenia.
Airhead. Yes she is an airhead.
An airhead like the thinnest of air
Atop the mighty Himalayas where
Holy men choose to transcend the
Mundane and commune with
Spirits subtle and ethereal and ultimately
Unknowable.
The world sees her beauty and perhaps
Only her beauty, but they are blinded
By their shallowness, superficiality,
Cluelessness and a brain wallowing
In the clouds of misty ignorance.
Therein lies the joke.

There was no music in my life
So I invented a violin.
It sat on my table and I watched;
My hand slid across the smooth wood,
It gave me not a sound.
I shut my eyes;
In my head I listened for a note
But it refused to share.
The precision of form,
Perfection of line
This instrument taunted me
And left me deaf with my dreams.
I recalled how I had been caressed
By it’s sweetness on many a lonely night--
Surrounding the silence with silky tones.
I am left with the dying embers
And haunted by its cold closeness.

There she is
reflected in this tiny droplet,
I see her laughter her pain
Her struggles and joy
Crisp and flawless like her love.

I am in there as well
The dreams dashed
The dreams unfulfilled
The future waiting to unfurl.
A teardrop is a marvelous thing
Like a bird’s eye
The future and the past
In clear view
Nothing obscured
Nothing hidden to protect the innocent
Or the sensitive
Or those trying to forget.

Sharply I see her good
Embracing her imperfections.
What is the formula one employs
To solve the mystery of love?
My rational mind is left wanting
Wavering and vacillating between
Apples and oranges
But in this teardrop
All is made clear
The fog and fissures
Are wiped clean and caulked,
Respectively.
The world I need and the world
My heart desires
Reflects with blinding light
With precise clarity.
From this crystal half dome
My blurred doubts are brought
Into focus
My entire world resides there
In that one tear of joy.

I tried to tickle my vegan fancy
With bushels of quinoa and kale,
I was told no meat or dairy
Was the healthy Holy Grail.

But I was sad and hungry
With every burger I declined,
See me toss away my salad bowl,
I’m in a sirloin state of mind.

I filled my fridge with veggies,
Bean sprouts and legumes,
But I dreamt of pancetta
And links of sausage to consume.

Breakfast was plain yogurt
Lunch was collard greens,
Snacks were roasted edamame,
****, they’re just soy beans.

I was getting much too skinny,
My ribs were protruding,
I became short-tempered,
And was dark and brooding.

I covered all the mirrors,
I looked so pale and pasty,
All day I would salivate,
Craving something hot and tasty.

My vegan days are over
Enjoying pork chops, ham and bacon
I thought veggies were the answer,
But it seems I was mistaken.

Feel free to live off plants,
If you are so inclined,
But I’m firing up the grill,
I’m in a sirloin state of mind.

I can't bear that she's in pain,
Her tears are acid that etch my cheeks.
Her silence screams and echoes in my empty room.
I wander alone.
Waiting. Hoping.

An oasis in a parched terrain
A rhyme in a dull refrain
In a storm a place to hide
A ******* in a riptide.

Going down, a parachute
Monday morning, short commute.
Summer day a scarf of silk
Warm cookies, a glass of milk.

Chocolate sundae the cherry on top,
Dangerous street a friendly cop.
A sturdy rope down the abyss
Tucked in bed a goodnight kiss.

Was it me or was it you?
At some point it doesn’t matter,
We’ve gone our separate ways
And nothing remains but memories:
Our playful give and take,
The laughter that softened the tears,
The bedroom ballet that kept us smiling.
So many smiles that we thought
Would be emotional cement.
I can’t muster any bitterness
But I can wallow in the happy times
That touched the edges of our lives
And maybe never penetrated deep enough
To sustain what we imagined we had
Together. Forever.

Ruby lips etched sharply
Against a gauzy memory
Pensively floating on the hope
Of a love long lost.
She resides in a murky present
Time out of place
Creating a romance of a silky past
Delicately draped on her soft shoulders.
Locked in a whirlpool of faded emotions
She yearns for substance that is both
Supportive and translucent
Unsatisfied but not hopeless
Resting upon her reverie
Evening slips into night
Dreams envelop her.

Walking along the shore in the fog
My steps follow each other
Not thinking of the morning
Or the evening before
How does one recover?
Let the love come in
Open a heart to the wind
And the rays of the sun.
The small waves lap my feet
As one melts another grows
The endless push of the sea.
Another child.
Where does the love come from?
Can I create it from dust?
I am spent and dry
A barren well.
And the waves cover my feet
I sink slightly in the sand
The water is warm
I walk toward a point
In the distance.
Steps. Steps.
It gets no closer.
The waves continue
My feet ever wet.
Nature never falters
A well never barren
A sea never dry.

Childhood dreams
Were shattered long ago.
New dreams were distilled
From tears and fears.
Bitter dreams withered
By reality.
But dreams nonetheless.
They fall away like
November leaves.
Drawing strength
From love. From work.
From life’s purpose.
She perseveres.
A struggle on a slender
Precipice
Never looking down.
Acceptance is a clever
Way to deal with pain.
Clutch it to your breast,
Make it yours.
Devour it. Spit it out.
She has had her fill
Of acceptance.
Tomorrow perhaps
Devoid of dreams
Will sustain her
And take her to
A place of peace.
Where she is loved
And loves herself.

You told me that you loved me.
The words I want to hear.
You say we’ll be together
Forever and a year.

I’ve given you many chances
More than you deserve.
Running round behind my back,
Where do you get the nerve?

Last night I saw the lipstick,
You thought I wouldn’t see,
So you better pack your bags,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.

Your lying and your cheating,
Now I’m gonna be free
You might be dumb but you can count,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.

Well it’s one for the money,
And two for the show,
Third time’s a charm,
Now you have to go.

Can’t you just be honest,
I know what I can see,
Putting two and two together,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.

Your lying and your cheating,
Now I’m gonna be free
You might be dumb but you can count,
It’s the third time you’re two-timing me.

It’s becoming clear
Old fashioned romance is dead
I want an LTR
But they want to hook-up instead.

I want long term dating
Not short-term flings,
I want tight and secure
Not something no-strings.

At my age I never considered
Meeting someone for a hook-up
This is a crazy situation
I just couldn’t cook up.

This casual dating I find
Is just making me frantic,
Somehow it doesn’t jive
With an old-school romantic.

For a writer
It’s like committing libel
To a true believer
Like speed-reading the Bible.

Now I sit here wondering
Should I accept the latest fashion,
And let them satisfy
Their hot-blooded passion?

Your soul is shaken by the turbulent seas
A ship unsuited for the journey
You dream of sleep in safe harbor
Salt water washes your tears.

Without a course you drift
Upon the waves
The last drop of fresh water
Has moistened your lips

Seeking the guidance of the stars
You gaze upon the skies
Dark clouds obscure your view
And send you to the maelstrom.

In the darkest of the muddy night
A ray of light stirs your soul
The clouds have parted
And Polaris appears.

With hope abandoned
You glide toward the light
Blind faith fills your sails
And leaves the storm in your wake.

Fatigue and failure grip your spirit
You are overtaken with sleep
Your nightmares are quiet
And you float peaceful like a gull.

Was it the light or the heat
That stirred you at dawn?
Calm. Steady. Warm.
A harbor safe from the sea.

That faulty compass at your feet
It was so foolish to trust
Tossed overboard, it disappears
Quietly like your past.

One day I will buy chocolate milk,
One day I will fly first class,
One day my shirts will be silk,
One day I’ll have a backstage pass.

I am accustomed to saying No
To things that would make me smile,
It’s not that I’m short on dough
But splurging just isn’t my style.

The waiter asks if I’d like a sundae,
Oh my, I couldn’t do that,
Perhaps I’ll have it one day
Because I don’t want to get fat.

This attitude long ago was learned
And strangely it has survived,
Trust me I’m deeply concerned
Why I am so often deprived.

I know I deserve the best,
And shouldn’t make life tougher,
I feel that I’m overly stressed,
And I don’t deserve to suffer.

Starting today I shall vow
To indulge my deepest desires,
To spoil myself I’ll learn how
Before my dull life expires.

I was smothered today by a heavy blanket of reality.
Not a warm fluffy quilt.
Not a cuddly satin comforter.
But a scratchy rag from a forgotten closet
That filled my head with odors of a musty past.
I tried to toss that painful reminder
But I continued to itch
And vapors from that cloud of disappointment
Lingered into the night.
I put my reading down
The blanket unkempt at my feet
A fabric once soft to the touch
And a pattern familiar and in vogue
Has lost it’s allure.
Like a reindeer sweater,
It’s odd that this would appeal to me
Even back then.
Perhaps a gift, accepted foolishly,
Or picked up on a cold night without thinking.
I’m warmer now…and wiser;
My closets need some attention.

She tries on men like a summer dress
Inspects the fit, the color, the silky fabric
“It scratches like that one I had last year”
She loves the feel of a new dress.
The excitement, the way she looks at dinner
How it brings out the color of her eyes.
They are always special at first, she thinks.
But the second and third wearing
It starts to become
Just another dress.
Her closet is full, the colors reflect her memories:
The concert in Cologne, the opera in Vienna
A performance here, a recital there.
On each dress is written a symphony
The notes emblazoned on the fabric
Never to be played again
Her men are her performances
Infused with passion, tempered with distance
The growing flame must be drenched
Before it consumes her art and her life.
The past must be altered
Lest she play that piece again.

The fear has subsided,
Uncertainty melts into endless kisses,
The second movement begins
On a hopeful note,
The violins build with a confidence
And unity, powerful and harmonious.
The unstructured first movement
Simply a search for a theme
A leitmotif to progress from darkness
To light.
The woodwinds laugh,
The horns announce the news,
The drums are strength and power
Driving the rhythm of our love.
Writing the notes together
We flow like rain
Blow together like leaves
In a breeze so brisk and strong.
We are conducting this movement
In gentle caresses and playful interchanges.
A melody only the heart can hear,
Silently envelops our waking hours,
And urging us to surrender.
The orchestra plays as one
We float upon the ocean of sound,
Wondering if the symphony will ever end.
Let the musicians play on
We can dance till dawn.

Oh, I love to get a bright new shiny thing,
Marvel at the perfection
Caress the smooth surface
Not a flaw to interrupt my touch
And there is a smell of newness
Hard to describe, but perceptible nonetheless.
I walk around the room
Studying the view from various perspectives
A changed environment, and how it speaks
With this new addition.
Nothing can ever be the same
This bright shiny thing begins to define the space.
It mirrors my life, and reflects the imperfections
My old life is dented and marred and scratched
Lines of age bear witness to the passing of time.
I have a gallery, photos of my bright shiny things
Frozen portraits of hope
But now only the photos survive untouched.
And today, like so many days before,
I discover a flaw.
Just a dimple, but a glaring impediment
To my dream.
My bright shiny thing fades
And soon finds a place on the shelf.

Acceptance based on faith
And blind intuition
Was the first step on the path.
A light from a dark solid rock
A lotus blossom from a murky pond.
The path to Nirvana has no guideposts
Often overgrown or even sandy
And shifting beneath our feet.
But true pilgrims persevere
And follow the silent call
Of destiny or dharma or desire,
Not earthly desires,
For they are a temptress
And an illusion,
But unseen desires,
Unfelt desires,
Deep desires that complete
A Karmic fate.
Our journey is pure and
Preordained,
If we melt into oneness
And feel the soft petals
Beneath our blistered feet.

They sneak up on you
The same time every year.
But each year they are different;
Different people, different places,
More people, fewer people.
Old friends, new friends,
Lovers, family, random celebrants.
Each birthday is a time capsule
A specific moment sliced from the year,
Seemingly mundane, but oh so telling.
As we age, we pretend to ignore them,
Not wanting to count the years or
Admit to their significance.
But if others forget them,
We are hurt deeply.
As the day approaches
We are forced to assess our life,
The past months, the past years
The days ahead, the shortage of days to come.
A happy day is always the wish from others,
As if saying it will make it happen.
If only life worked that way.
But it is our day, our one special day
No matter our sins or transgressions,
We can bask in the glory just this once,
This day is our reward, for nothing in particular.
Just for being, just for living,
Just for having survived.
But maybe that is worthy of acclaim.
Every day, every week, every month
And surely every year
Is a struggle.
Let’s celebrate perseverance.
Let’s celebrate fortitude.
Let’s celebrate strength of character,
To whatever degree it exists.
Let’s celebrate hurdles,
Overcome or faced with courage.
Let’s celebrate disappointment
Profound disappointment that failed
To defeat us.
Let’s celebrate not giving up
In the face of overwhelming fear.
Let’s celebrate the journey
In all it’s joy and dejection.
And most of all
Let’s celebrate the days to come
And that glimmer of hope
That keeps us plodding along,
Fighting, struggling, sacrificing,
And wincing in pain
Every day of the year
So we live to see another
Birthday.

The opposite of one,
The great minds will explain,
Is not none,
But borders on insane.
And will there be attraction,
Like one finds in love,
Or simply more distraction,
And more of the above?
Seek and find,
Find and seek,
A puzzle in a pretzel,
A dripping from a leak.
When you think you’ve found equation,
And all sums negate,
Hold you breath for deflation,
And be prepared to debate.
I went down that road,
In the forest it did diverge,
I thought my karma flowed,
Until the paths did merge.
A quest for that grail,
May never really end,
But lift anchor and sail,
And hope you find a friend.

Love is a principle
Not an emotion,
Feelings are too flighty
On which to base your devotion.
Love flutters
She’s a butterfly to catch your attention
With net in hand,
She defies comprehension.
Labels are helpful
But they never stick
Try reading her palm,
But it’s only a trick.
So I live in limbo
Confused and never knowing
I see her there,
Is she coming or going?
If I stop thinking
It all feels right
I’ll let myself go
And melt in her light.

Awash in disillusionment for a moment
That lasts for two
Making the most of a meaning I can’t possess
Branching out on limbs unknown
Never knowing the next step
A journey in the dark moonless night
Being guided by voices in my head,
Strange yet familiar I follow nonetheless,
Rushing to beat the dawn
I’ve been down this path before
My sleeping mind knows the way
What will I awaken to?
Memories to ponder or dreams to forget?
The vacuum of my mind ***** me in
I toss and turn another chapter unread
There’s comfort in the wind
Inertia held at bay.
I’ll sweep away the morning fog
As the dust settles in my eyes
The new day brings a choice
I will follow.

Notes float like snowflakes
Carried by the gentle breeze
Landing randomly on her forehead
Her breast and shoulders,
Melting before they can be heard
Or transcribed to paper.
A melody etched in a dream
Fading with the first thought,
But the tune lingers in memory
Nonetheless.
It’s a duet we compose
In passionate embraces
Improvised and syncopated
Lifting spirits and lightening the heart.
This composition has only just begun
Exposing the first movement
We dance to unheard chords,
Smiling and humming as the phrases
Fill the air.
It’s an opus built on hope
In the mystery of night
And structured on sighs.
We are ignorant of the movements
Yet to write,
But we surrender to the inspiration
As the music ebbs and flows
Then in gradual crescendo
We wait, we ponder, we fear
The music yet to come,
In the symphony yet to be written
Our unfinished symphony dances on.

Today the last drops of Hope
Disappeared down the drain.
Unceremoniously.
A slow circular dance without even
A goodbye.
It had been her companion for so many months
Years even.
It nurtured her and she prayed
That her trust would not be in vain.
This pain is not new--just sharper--
and no longer tempered by Hope.

She has built a wall
That can’t be scaled.
Isolation doesn’t lessen the agony
Physical comfort is no cure.
Heartache is like the seasons
It dissolves according to its own rhythm;
A schedule that laughs at our
Attempts to start summer in May.
Love that won’t be returned
Leaves us bobbing endlessly
On the unforgiving sea.
The heart listening devoutly
Devotedly
For those faint murmurs
Which keep it beating.

She waited many seasons for him
Colored leaves to be buried in snow
Then daffodils bringing hope
But falling soon in the heat of summer,
And then lonely winds of November.
How many springs would be enough
Until she knew her love would
Never bloom?

Today is the first day without hope
Waiting no more.
Feeling naked, bruised
But unshackled by a dream,
A nightmare?
Jericho will blow his horn
The wall will come tumbling down,
Maybe not crashing, but brick by brick
Stone by stone.
Will she love again?

I search and search
and search in vain
Maybe it will help
To accept this pain

A crushing surprise
Slammed shut a door
I try to know myself
And nothing more

The loss of love
A stifling chill
I shut my eyes
Swallow this bitter pill

I just tried to trust
Those who couldn’t love
I have to overcome
And rise above

Another lesson in life’s
Twisting changing path
It makes me stronger
When I lose the wrath.

I worry too much
I think too much
About things
I cannot change.
A woman’s mind,
For one,
Can’t be changed.
She is.
She will be.
I can only accept
Or leave.
If I accept
Then no worry;
If I leave,
Then I’m gone.
I repeat--
I worry too much.
But not anymore.
It feels good;
A weight has been lifted,
It was so easy.
Maybe too easy.
Now I’m worried.

Your silent steps indent the newly fallen snow,
Thoughts envelope the night world,
Yearnings I can feel, transported on flakes
But reaching my window nonetheless.

Amber light glowing catches your eye,
A couple sharing dinner, warmth
Radiating from a home foreign to you,
You continue in chilly silence ahead.

Turning back you breathe in that harmony,
Saving you from the icy wind;
Oh, but if only you could fly
And share in that scene for a moment.

Turn away, you fool, don’t look here,
Yes, it’s warm, it’s safe from winter’s grip,
But the glass distorts
The joy you long to melt within.

There’s no love here, no peace,
No care, just a meal being shared
In the shadow of a fireplace
Creating heat where none exists.

Keep your thoughts away,
They will freeze amid the icy stares
Piercing vintage wine and
Blood rare steak.

There is death at this table.
Starving for love.  Famished for care
Reason dissolved long ago,
Leaving not a trace or stain.

Go, go, leave your footprints in the snow,
I watch them fade as the night drifts,
It’s so easy to be fooled,
On a cold night.

She floated from a world before time
A Priestess with powers unseen
Subtle and nurturing.
The piece to a puzzle long forgotten
Or recently scattered in a dream
But now completed or maybe
Taking shape.
Meanings defy definition
But are precise nonetheless.
A calm innocence before the storm
That rushed in on cue.
Washing away the particulars
But polishing the essence
Of the arrangement.
Bonds so quickly formed
Unexpected energy merged
Across a table, but was it
Unexpected?
She is a diviner of things to come
A sensitive soul steering her boat
To distant shores, guided by
Ethereal forces.
A young body, an old soul
Piercing eyes that beckon
And heal.
She floated in on a hope,
And drifted out with the storm.

In never ending pain
You choose to wallow.
This dry sandwich of self-pity
Is so hard to swallow.

You juggle those slippery *****
Of pain and regret
I hear you pray for release
But you aren’t there yet.

Me thinks thou protests
A little too much
This “woe is me” cane
Has become your crutch.

Throw off that garment of gloom
Your attitude needs to switch
Just accept the fact
That life is a *****.

It’s that time of night
Where it’s still today
But maybe it’s tomorrow.
Teetering between the present
And the future.
I’m often like that
Resistant to change,
Complacent in my old ways
But all too aware of the
Inevitability of what’s to come.
It’s the dull comfort of these chains
That keep me moored to the
Perpetual winter.
I am cursed with always knowing
But not wired for doing.
Perched upon this fence
The vista is thrilling and the scenery
enticing.
But sit I must and watch the parade
And clap to the oompah
Of a passing tuba.
Somewhere the sun is rising
I watch the clock
Tethered to yesterday
And not believing in tomorrow.

Words can move mountains,
And the pen is mightier than the sword.
Words can heal, and words can uplift.
But a few ill-chosen words
Can bring down a world.
Weigh your words carefully
Such power is hidden in their silence
And an innocent remark
Might be twisted and sharpened
To reveal a hideous weapon
Dripping with slander and guile.
A word is a dove sent aloft
A symbol of peace and white purity.
It flies from your sheltering hands
To encounter a world that knows
Not of peace.
Not of purity.
Like the whale,
It’s whiteness is perceived
As a raptor of evil.
The minds of others can be controlled
Not.
Our words migrate to distant shores
Rejected and misunderstood
Alien beings, unkempt and unwashed
Morphed into a threatening tempest
By its mere presence.
The sea is teeming with words
They buoy your boat
Keep it bobbing on the churning sea
Or they can engulf the rudder
And cast you adrift in meaningless doldrums
Or sink you amid an indefinable whirlpool.

She was lost in a deep dark chasm
Of pain and desire
Bitter memories that stained
The rock walls.
She scaled the shear cliffs
With each new day
A dawn of hope spurred her forward
Inches every day she rose
Closer to the light
Bathed in sunshine
And warm desert air
With each step she became unshackled
Breaking the bonds of history
Rewriting her life and smelling the sweet
Flowers of the spring for the first time.
Nature’s power to heal embraced her nakedness
A young bird taking flight
From the comforting nest.
Her delicate wings are buoyed
By the updrafts from the canyon.
Rising higher and higher
Above the stagnant river bed.

In the beginning was the word
The ideas flowed like wine
Grappling through the night
We explored
The ramifications of the past,
The indentations of the present
The permutations of the future.
We delved the endless font
Of our literal lives
Page after page we turned
Swallowing chapters, misspelled loves
Grammatical wastelands spread across the crumbled sheets,
All could be corrected.
Those words, I can still remember
Embossed on my brow
Like Braille, I’m blind enough to read.

In time the words went dry.
Perhaps we said it all.
Or chose to say no more.
The questions were replaced
With smug complacency.
The river of curiosity slowed,
And trickled between our toes.

In the end there were no words.
Passion took the podium
In tender speechless quiverings
We pressed the meaning on our flesh
Somehow it was enough
As we devoured our silent summations.
The unspoken proclamations
Confirmed my doubts
Reaffirmed my hopes.
As the last page was turned
The rising sun filled the empty room.

The journey has begun
It’s her journey,
But, of course, it’s mine as well.
Different roads we’re on,
She is on a path of discovery;
A new land.  A new man.
Perhaps even a path to freedom.
My travels are inward
Trying to grasp the changes
Which will surely come.
Like a billboard rushing by
In the glare of headlights
Its message seen peripherally
Is that what it said?  Maybe not.
Just trying to get a sense
Are we traveling apart?
Or simply in different lanes
Parallel. Watching each other
Always mindful of the gap.
Or am I following her
Mimicking her every turn
Destined to never catch up?

We all have a personal prison
Some soar to the sky
With smooth high walls
Try as we may,
Will never be breached.
Others have no walls
The view goes on forever
Happy in our confinement
Letting the world come visit.
There are jails of the mind
A noose strangling and constricting
The flow of blood, oxygen.
Stagnant, rigid in our status quo.
A parole never comes.
I have seen a penitentiary
Of flesh and bones.
The body can imprison
Leaving no escape.
A key hidden away years ago
The hiding place long forgotten.
We choose our prison
Decorate our cell
Complain or not,
Always marking the passing days
On the wall of our soul.

The world is a cauldron of never-ending pain
Do our sympathy and tears ease this pain
Equal even to a teardrop?
And if we are cold and heartless--
Ignoring the suffering and eating our sushi
And driving our cars--
Will their pain cut sharper and deeper
From our indifference?

I didn’t know that I was lost,
But I knew when I was found.
Those heavy chains on my heart
I was no longer bound

The sun is suddenly brighter
The coffee I swear is sweeter
I’d still be in a fog
If I didn’t meet her.

I pinch myself daily
Thankful for the pleasure
I feel like Blackbeard
Finding a buried treasure.

The woman knows what she wants
The woman knows how to get it
Is this a story as old as time
Played out with repeated predictability
And a resolution inevitable and clear?

Beauty and cunning wield a deft hammer
Subtle as the breeze from a butterfly wing
Why do I dance to her magnetic tune?
I pull away, at least I try
Her ambivalence ensnares me once again.

Don’t think I’m here blind and foolish--
I’m awake and analyzing her every move
But reason is worthless and weak
Logic is lifeless and limp
Against the curve of her back.

I crave substance; she ponders…
Gives me vapors and fog.
I want loyalty and trust
She smiles, that’s her truth.
How does one say no to a woman?

Her experience belies her age
But youth is her strength one minute
And her weakness the next.
She juggles her assets in hypnotic circles
I’m left wondering what’s behind that silky curtain.

She’s a crafty contradiction
And I’m learning at her knee
Oh what a knee it is
I’m taking lessons from a master
And I have to go, school’s about to begin.

Quiet and cautious
Protecting the secrets
Close to her heart.
Slowly her defenses weaken
Tiptoeing through the forest
Of past desires and fallen trees.
The leaves rustle and she warms
To the approaching dawn.
As squirrels scurry in the trees
She awakens to natures embrace
And lets the water tumble
Over rocks and moss.
Laying in a bed of leaves
The walls have subsided
And the tones of a distant flute
Surround her and dissolve her slumber.

You look at me, is that pity or compassion?
I’ve made choices you wouldn’t have made
I know self-sacrifice isn’t in fashion.
I’m not in total denial, I see what you see
But it’s my life and I know it,
We are friends, comfortable with each other.
Okay, we spar, we fight, we don’t always
See eye to eye. But we are in it for the long haul.

What can be done with the language barrier?
Words can approach the river
But refuse to cross
Heavy with thought and weigh us down
We shape their meaning with crude tools
And leave us staring at trees for solace.
Words are like snowflakes that melt on your arm
Each a unique world, a precise shape
Gone so fast and replaced.
There are so many, I need to ponder
How can I ever know you
If you fade and melt under my cold scrutiny?

What can be done with the language barrier?
Walls need to be scaled
I step upon your syntax to gain perspective
But words fail me when I reach the heights
Let's build a path to bridge the gap
A silent path of smooth stones
Cobbled together under the canopy of leaves
Where we can walk breathless
Hand in hand
Translating the words
That hang unspoken in the misty air.

I’ve never known you without Lulu
She has been a part of you
As much as your humor
Your generosity
Your kindness
Your ability to make things happen.
But you are not less for her loss,
She filled you with joy
She warmed your bed
On those cold and lonely nights.
She loved you when
Nobody else would.
One look at her bright eyes
And your day was brighter.
But you are not less for her loss,
Her spirit will reside
Upon a soft fluffy bed
Somewhere inside you.
She will continue to come
Whenever you call her.
How could she not?
That’s what good dogs do.
She will be there to snuggle
When you need comfort,
And wag her tail
When you need a laugh.
If you listen hard
She is barking now
She wants a walk
Or a treat
Or just some affection.
Good dog.

The earth reveals
Layers of rock
From ages past
Clues of life exposed
Frozen in time
Secrets exclusive for inquisitive
And learned minds.
To others, just rock,
Striated, fused, multi-colored.

Springtime, snow melts,
The months of frozen feelings
Thaw and reveal a blanket
Of hidden emotions nurtured
By fallen leaves.
Layered like rock, they cuddle
In their dampness
As the sun brings life to the months
Of quiet glacial discovery.

The law is a puzzle of the seasons
Mysterious in its ambiguous simplicity
Present, at hand, but always out of grasp
Layered meanings twist the mind
History adds the pressure of precedence
A crutch for lazy minds
Struggle to reassess and delve deeper
Into meanings untapped
A mine waiting to share its ore
A wrapping of leaves concealing
Life unawares, undiscovered.
Time. Energy. Passion.
No secret.  
The key to discovery is simple,
Innocent in the palm of your hand
One turn, and a world is unlocked.

Today is my birth day
I am newly born.
It was the most natural of births
But the labor dragged on
For thirty-nine years.

Today is a double celebration
I am toasting the death
Of my old self
And toasting the birth
Of me.
The real me.
The happy me.
The me who doesn’t feel the pain
Of abuse.
Who doesn’t feel the fear
Of ***.
Who doesn’t cower in shame
In the shadow of men
Who can’t love.

The funeral was quick
The burial was quicker
There will be no headstone
To commemorate that life
It’s dead and gone,
And I pray there are no scars
On my infant skin.

I don’t pretend that I will love again.
I don’t need that crazy ****
Living free and clear
Of ancient and ruins
Is enough for me.
I will not suckle on a ***
Ever again.
From this day on
Every step is a joy
It is my journey
And only mine.
Today I take baby steps
Tomorrow I walk
And soon I run
Putting endless miles
Between me and that
Cold unmarked grave.

Her beauty is a river,
Slowly flowing at my feet.
Winding through a young forest
Almost motionless
The current waves to the admiring
Aspen leaves.
Small boats with magnetic joy
Cling to the rippling surface,
Travel briefly downstream
Get mired in the sand.
Reflections sparkle,
tickle my fantasy
I watch my toes in the cool water

Her passion is a river,
Churning swiftly with abandon.
Cutting its own path
Following the forces of nature.
Listen, she speaks clearly:
Admire the power
But the fury will not be harnessed.
I tremble as the raging current
Creates a windstorm in its wake.

I sit here, surrounded
By the confluence of these mighty rivers.
The waters co-mingle
I am enveloped in the rising mist
My eyes are shut
Reason is abandoned
As I submerge in the torrent
My soul to be delivered
Downstream
As nature dictates.

In his stall late at night
Barbaro dreams of taking flight.
He hears a sound and ****** his ears,
A comforting hum of distant cheers.
Glory was quick and oh so brief
In these quiet hours he seeks relief.
It helps to run that race again,
Cheers and praise in the world of men.
Those speedy gifts have been retired,
Thoughts of victories desired,
Put to pasture such an early age
Against the stall he kicks with rage.
Why won’t the people listen?
Those long lean legs still glisten,
Powerful force on powerful thighs
Wire to wire swiftly flies.
But never again given a chance,
To chase the breeze and do the dance.
This night the stall door was left ajar,
A finish line beckons from afar,
Nothing to stop his midnight flight,
Soaring faster toward the light,
Racing the wind, his ultimate test,
In the winner’s circle he comes to rest.