These days that come like
a circus burning to the ground
and leave with ashes
on a clown’s lips
when the hot air of sunset
smells like smoke
and then there is a stillness
that rivals death
with an evening that is
silent because the
crickets dare not mate.

Together we killed the spiders
that wove the webs
in damp and sad parts of you

What will the little girl once
afraid of spiders do now?

A secret is worth
a thousand words
A picture says
nothing

My father was not a sailor
My mother was not a saint
Each one was just a failure
But what they were I ain't

Speckled, soiled and hurt
Their dying was long and hard
Each a droning but dull alert
Which still keeps me on guard

I am not a sailor
I don't believe in any saint
I am not a tailor
I'm a walking, talking complaint

If you see me on the street, shake your head
If you get no response, I'm already dead

I felt the weight of the world
and carried it through a tunnel
with all my might
and there you were,
a bit beaten, a bit frightened
and yet ready to set your senses aflame
so I dropped the world
and embraced you.

If by chance you wish to escape
from the person you become
every morning
then all you have to do is find
the time to meet me there,
where our names do not matter
and all we have are four walls
with no eyes or ears
and you are the princess
of every moment.

I need another hand
I will take your hand
Leaving you one to wander
while three work to fill the well

with souls

Today the sky was wide
and the clouds thick
like a blue painting
in 3-D
Once I drove a thousand
miles to get somewhere
that I thought I belonged
and the same sky
hovered
West of the great river
and through the dusty plains
where pioneers
died
I traveled for love
I drove on to get
somewhere
but I got nowhere
Except the sky was wide
and the clouds thick
like a blue painting
in 3-D

the world had moved a bit more slowly
and paths were crossed
differently, paved through
a sky less clouded
and if the rivers had flowed
with warmer currents
following the winds that could
have blown more slowly to the west
and that butterfly in Singapore
had flapped its wings three or
maybe two times less ...

you would be mine.

I got a text
from you
that called me “dear”
and I read it
over and over
again
and imagined
the word as it
sounded from
your lips
watching them move
to form the word
for me
whom you called
dear

The noise we make
when we move inside of
one another
can wake us, make us
want to want

it to be music
we play together

You’re a dream in a land of
black and white
in a cast of characters
created by
an active imagination
and the random
source of light.
I read into you,
think about you,
float in the thoughts,
wander in your shadow.

Place your hand upon my chest
pound your palm
to pick up the pace
and put the pieces
                                 back

I felt the weight of the world
and carried it through a tunnel
with all my might
and there you were,
a bit beaten, a bit frightened
and yet ready to set your senses aflame
so I dropped the world
and embraced you.

Her hair was red
then black
then a bit of both
and then the sun took over
and her face was like
a sculpture of Venus
and then her lips moved
and they kissed the words
who are you
and suddenly I was aware
she saw me

If you ever thought of waiting
for a special moment,
don’t wait now,
there is no forever,
only the next few moments
are available
and the only way they will last
an eternity is if you attend
to them now.

I remember
looking into your eyes
and
I remember
the entire New York City sky
reflecting from them
and
making me fly
I remember the color
of the meadow
the breeze on your face
the kiss
that left me to long
for all other kisses to mean
as much
I remember the songs,
the birds,
the contour of your arms,
how you turned your head
and
nothing between then and now.

When you aren’t in the room with me,
the walls cry

Red wine
Soft wind
Full lips
Music
And magic
In the mist
Of a morning
When sleep
Is all that is left
Of a night
with you.

Everyone can see you
but no one looks at you
the way I do

Everyone may think
this or that
but no one thinks of you
the way I do

Everyone may feel
you are special
but no one sees your fireworks
the way I do

Everyone doesn’t know
about you
the way I do
but you do

From the dust
rises form
splendid and shaped
so pretty
that eyes upon it
tear
and smiles
dance over the night's fog

This is how I see her
in the shadows
as the only light
a bean that shivers through
the curtain of darkness

It's beautiful
it's a soul surrendering
to the moment
with
no
need
to be encouraged
by the dawn

None of us write poetry
for anyone else to read
we write it to purge the pain
personal and private
others could like it
but that doesn't matter
then again,
neither does it matter
if we write the poem at all

How lonely is the sea of darkness
that bleeds black over
endless space

If I were the sky
I would keep my eyes opened
when the clouds disappear with the sun

Then over this planet
covered in shadows
I would watch for the dawn

the jewel of night

the dazzling bright

the source of promise

the reflection of hope

that one star, the only star

you

Today the sky was wide
and the clouds thick
like a blue painting
in 3-D
Once I drove a thousand
miles to get somewhere
that I thought I belonged
and the same sky
hovered
West of the great river
and through the dusty plains
where pioneers
died
I traveled for love
I drove on to get
somewhere
but I got nowhere
Except the sky was wide
and the clouds thick
like a blue painting
in 3-D

I was left in a tent
by the mother who bore me
and the thieves came to
take me away.

I grew up in a circus
and loved the clowns
who made me laugh all day.

I went to trial
by a jury of twelve,
not one who took my side.

I fell in love
on a day like this
but she ran away to hide.

Whatever happens will happen
now quickly and divine.
It could have all been different
If ever you were mine.

I have been thinking of
going back to California
because it seems far away from here
and it may be best to get
far away from here

California is the Foreign Legion
where one can go to forget
even if one has memories there

However ...

Maybe I don't need to forget
as much as I need to
be close to
something Spanish

I am the tree that falls in the woods
that no one is around to hear.
But you hear me.

It is summer
when you enter a room
and flowers blossom
wherever you sit

It's deep
it goes deep
and sometimes
it feels it won't stop
deepening

So where does it end?

There's never the one that got away
Because no one truly gets away
with anything