I’m just passing it along,
All has come - to become gone

But for a fleeting instant at most
love is a guest of an eager host

I become aware that sender I must be,
which is how it now arrives with thee

This golden dove, thy gaze, the time
Carried by messenger from the Divine

Over the Bizarre - this cloud passing by -
Is a trader’s exchange across a bartering sky

Tis only suspended by my arresting eye
Then off again, I let it fly

A poem, a song, a painful illness
Ecstatic whirling around the axis of stillness

Gone from gone, as gifts unwrap
What’s given is done, to be given back

Finding it’s way to hand and heart
By hand and heart once had a start

So you who arrive had come before
I saw another close a door

Waiting, a package sent to ourselves
arriving like stars in a hearts black well

I lean over the edge of introspection
Down to dark waters of a captive reflection

In the ripples of light and shadow I see
A present returned, and the present is me

Am I light emitted or light received
Where am I on the wheel of destiny

All I seek is its cycle's center
Blessed reunion of recipient and sender

Our moments collect in concentric rings about the nexus
Of a first embrace, adorned with Autumnal colors and scents -
We lovers blend, cupped gently below the stir of flecks and dapple.
Each leaf high up quivers in the bouquets and knows when to let go,
Fly and fall to earth.

Whispers from a rustling canopy climb down the bark encasements
Of these tall and somnolent trees, thirsty leaves that clatter and kiss,
Wink awake – brilliant – hold our gaze and suspend our hearts.
In a pirouette amidst the amity of recollection and premonition -
We shimmer in an iridescence of saffron on copper – remember this.

Moments light up, each one, for just an instant, the last of our lives;
Each conveniently the beginning of forever and forever smiles at us.
Rippling across the cycles of solstice and equinox, we radiate –
A nostalgic procession toward unmade memories, like tree rings.
We fly and fall in love.

I want to feel, yet
I want to die..no
I just want to go back
  to an easier time.
When life made sense
When people were there
When you didn't have to worry
  if they even cared.
If not for now, then what?
If not here, where would I be?
If I'd changed my mind in the beginning
  I know this wouldn't be me.
She brings me back down when
She holds my hand in hers
She usually keeps these feelings
  from getting so much worse.
Home isn't where the heart is and
Home won't set me free
Home won't stop my aching chest
  or **** this insanity.

We are all animals of a baser kind
elementary creatures, reveling in our complexity
an assembly of simple machines, each playing part
in an inseparable chorus of flesh and ego

Boastful beings, claiming we are contrived by gods
fashioned from particles, or the dust of dead giants
though truly, we are merely creations of vanity and chance
the eyes of a universe looking back upon itself in awe

How grand and vain, this cosmic mirror!
****** upon eyes that only stare in wonder

"I'm loving you",
she said.
not "I love you",
which is what most people say,
which is what I would have said --
"I'm loving you."
because it was an ongoing action,
not just a passive state,
because she was loving me
while I was reading, or cooking.
it wasn't something like
"how do you feel?" "I feel good."
"what do you love?" "you, dear."
-- no.
no, loving is a verb, an act,
one that takes patience and time
and perseverance.
"I'm loving you", she said,
and her tone was casual or
almost indifferent, maybe,
as if she had said "I'm cleaning
the house", as if it should follow
"what are you doing today?",
she said the words as if they were
positively ordinary, but they weren't.
people tend to ask
"do you smoke?" or "do you drink?"
or "what do you believe in?"
-- habitually, passively --
and she said
"I'm loving
(and loving and loving)
you."