“Angelica arguta”,
He shows her his wildflowers
“Angelica Susannah”, he says.
And prodded further by her
His heart.
Lingers briefly with the night;
Her affection has power,
But not enough
To keep him
From marching off to fight.

Tristan, son of One Stab,
Brings wildness from the mountains.
Lovely woman from the East,
Fascinated by her,
His passion.
Revels in her bridal bower,
And stops her
Loving any other.

Alfred, eldest son of his father,
Full of rectitude and romance.
Angelica abandoned,
Adrift between the mountains
Becalmed far from the sea.
He takes advantage,
Snatches her soul with riches,
But never captures
Her longing heart.

Years pass and one son gone,
The other lost and mad.
Year of the red grass and
Happiness found
Is felt too soon.
Tristan loves young Isabel,
But Angelica is his doom.

Yet only he survives
The waves that lash her shore,
“Like water in the ice,
She breaks them.”
And in the Spring,
Is gone once more.

Angelica Susannah is buried
Above the box canyon in the meadow
Among the many dead.
Near Samuel’s heart,
The executed Isabel,
And others who follow soon.
Until only Tristan remains,
Left to hunt his nemesis,
The bear inside him.
And dream of one wife lost,
And a lover left behind:
Angelica Susannah
Beside whom he should lie.

He is slain by the bear in Sixty-three,
After forty years of solitude.
And laid to rest in the plot
Between two women he loved,
Isabel, his ingenuous wife
And Susannah, his tragic love.
Do their spirits meet at last
And wander the golden fields,
Or ride out to bathe in the hot springs,
Under the moon of the falling leaves?

Celebrating spring
punctuated with an
apostrophe.

How much you owned
your conscience,
in deathly silence?

Love was an execution
drug. It works
inside, not outside.

When the hummingbird
stops flying, would you
get the nectar of pain?

The myth of flying
backward was true
of destroying the ascension?

You give me hope
and insanity, making a
bonfire of incomplete truths!

the oak tree rolls
(a medallion, a junction)
darker than the soil
—
     than the gray skies.

seven poltergeists
in seven homes
inopportune
the world and its coasts

and when the tide rolls in alone
will you be there?

a nightless time
a moonless month
sleepless, smiling

watch fear run
with its tail between its legs
when the sirens wail
when hell's lid is popped

you'll be there
honeymooning,
swooning

stay, then
sway your life away

let the ghosts haunt your home
pull the fragile waist
of your misfortune close
take the dance
by its pensive hands

it is a parasite
and you are a gracious host for it

fresh, lockstep
pseudo-symbiotism

I know no one would ever tell you otherwise.

If love was just a wish away
and every dream came true
I'd pull the stars down from the sky
and give them all to you

For all the words I write are yours
I bleed for you alone
If I could hold your pretty stare
it's there I'd  find my home

But I am just a lonely scribe
of whom you're unaware
if I was graced with just one smile
my parchment heart would tear.

So I will wish upon the moon
and beg upon her grace
that I will love forevermore
her light upon your face.

My life is sometimes only that green
that everybody see's during the day,
and at night when you awake
with your window open wide
and perceive the fresh scent
of a brand new beginning,
with the joy it transfers to us all,
conveyed within the air we breath,
that comes only in nature we see.

windows open in winter
lonely, hiemal caress

I feel my veins curl
wilt like pulled ribbon

they cramp under the muscle
cold stifling the crimson

the blood collects in my cheeks
pools there; potent, pressing

but he brandishes the pain –
I watch him thrash the world
off of the hems of his cuffs

offer a fist to his cries

I watch him dance around his ills
like they are open flame around his feet

bold, loudmouth
his thoughts bounce right from the brim
of his broken lips
with no caution; it is to the wind

only a fool could be so confident

The poppy field stirs
as spring breezes graze the silence
sending birds to flight
Hush, do you hear them?
a thousand souls that cried for home.

All men wear white crosses here,
the rows glisten
standing straight and tall against the sky
Shoulder to shoulder
finally at one with peace.
There will be no reveille as dawn breaks
No call to arms for these brothers of battle.
Only quiet remembrance.

Come let us shake off our heavy clothes
down by the river where no one goes
fears will be falling like dominoes
where this is leading no one knows.

Swim with the fish and the dragonflies
clouds are reflecting in your blue eyes
swim against the tide, we can only try
evening will come to pass by and by.

Come let us join up our weary hands
tell tales of treasure and foreign lands
here in the water we'll play our parts
leading the charge with our beating hearts.

Come let us shake off our heavy clothes
down by the river where no one goes
fears will be falling like dominoes
where this is leading no one knows.