a natural work of art
   unnaturally rearranged
delicate sensibilities
   under patterns of shadow

self-portrait of inertia
   depicting withdrawal
pursuit of recognition
   motionless in futility

muted colors of being
   imbalance in the spectrum
intrinsic inquisition
   casting quality of light

fruits of perseverance
   nourishment for survival
openness and acceptance
   creating spatial composition

flowers in heart's vase
   healing from suffering
light from obscurity
   still life with darkness

reality abruptly removed the veil
  realization mercifully provided the light
a binary being seeking his own level
  attempting to rise to the surface of himself

if peaceful existence is based on choice
  then personal dogma tablets need chiseling
if afterlife is fashioned from belief systems
  then intimate mysteries need conceiving

dialogue of a dress rehearsal for an actual life
  faithlessly hidden within lines of complexity
alliterated ambiguously, expressed equivocally
  setting the stage for reincarnation's passion play

an ethereal presence
felt long before ever being heard
energy flowing through space and time
resonant frequencies with dynamic effect

inducing within romantic chambers
a rhapsodic ocean of dance and song
a mountainous symphony of possibility
a delicate and gentle concerto of dreams

musical princess of harmonic evolution
melodic instrument for conscious healing
emanating perfect pitch whether sharp or flat
an athenaeum of inspiration and maternal lyricism

...oh, to remain in concert...

Finally...to have experienced genuine love!

...a captivating whisper of tender words
...a knowing glance of enduring confidence
...a gentle touch charged with intimacy

If only that lovely couple would pass by more often...

words deprived of meaning
  thoughts stranded in translation
   feelings imprisoned without sentencing

a stroke of life...un coup de vie
  an existence brutally stricken
   incapable of verbal expression

communication frustration...no relief
  nuances from mundane to sublime
   lost in an endless syntax maze

and sure, some actions speak louder
  but unspoken words of love and support
   fall like an acid rain of futility on the heart

Sad enough when inflicted by fate
  tragic as a self-induced metaphor
The muting of squandered opportunities
  will keep you disconnected and haunt your future

Aphasics have no say in this matter
            What's your excuse?

that we exist
that we are whole
that we are worthy
that we are accepted
that we are respected
that we are connected
that we are appreciated
that we are of consequence

that we even matter at all...

Liberty perched on a pedestal
balancing progress and evil
Holding high the palm of peace
over those who hold it so dear

But peace comes dropping too slowly
with all due respect to you, William
An unsettled and urgent promise
cloistered within vows of possibility

Willing victim of romantic culture
betrayed by the keeper of souls
Romance is no idle distraction
Intimacy, a vocation

Long afflicted by...
the sounds of music
the scent of linden blossoms
the taste of sea salted skin
the feel of sultry midnight air
the sight of sun through closed eyes...

Dreams once silently withering
liberated to wander freely
Uprooted from the stagnation
of emotionally depleted soil

Transplanted to aimlessness
where all roads lead to roam
Preferring the role of explorer
to the vagrancy of a lost soul

Strolling through this beautiful city
as having traveled throughout life
Observing without participation
part of a whole yet not wholly a part

An accomplished failure on a quest
to achieve simplicity of purpose
To savor those moments of stray peace
that ephemerally cross this path

...all the whilst searching for that bee loud glade

Tilting at butterfly windmills
in Parisian blown breezes
As gazelles seductively sway
to the melting light of night

Feeling her nocturnal whispers
puppy's secrets in child's ear
While white petals gently escape
eternal maternal bouquets

Pondering morphed realities
from verdant citrus cocoons
Long after jazz laden teardrops
muddled cinco de mayo

Don't want to speak too soon
   or speak too late, for that matter

Should speak up and speak out
   ...cat got your tongue?

But not speak ill or speak out of turn
   ...bite your tongue!

Above all, speak the truth, your truth
   ...not with a forked tongue

Truth be told
   sometimes I don't want to speak at all
And if you knew me
   that would truly be saying something

Speak!...Speak!...Good boy...

ink of sky inhabits her eyes
  essence of serenity almondine
so spanish in silvern adornment
  though her soul is hafnium pierced

a haven for both life and death
  embodiment of artistic expression
openly hooded in earlobe spirituality
  nominally patrician by disposition

my source stirs in futile disarray
  kindred energy infusing the moment
a tree appears on a barren landscape
  devoid of foliage, vivaciously rooting

She moves through the fair of her life
with an awareness and introspection that belies her years

She still feels the effects of the darkness that plagued her past
but, as she goes forth, reaches with her soul towards a new and enlightened age

She will not forget her suffering, but uses it to transform her spirit
as an alchemist uses the philosopher's stone to produce precious from base

She is a rebel at heart, but hers is a cultural revolution, an awakening to the beauty of a spiritual life filled with music, art, poetry, language, philosophy, and the science of nature

Transformation isn't instantaneous and her emotions will still go medieval at times suddenly rising like a Gothic spire from the landscape

However, with each contrasting experience she is reborn and better equipped to fashion a belle époque of her own design

She may tend to shun the glamour of convention and develop a unique style
She just wants you to know who she is

humid sounds of city stillness
wafting warmly, quietly
through bedtime screens

melancholy windows open
deep within my soul
don't know why...

love is allowed to fade
from mundane view
treasure unrealized

nurturing appreciation
materially displaced
don't know why...

always been a perpetual dreamer
  castles forever floating in air
foundations constantly shifting below
  earthly tremors shaking the heavens
…a role reversal made to disorder

sometimes i long for a clear blue sky
  without puffy white towers soaring
ofttimes i wish for a darkened slumber
  with no white noise of fanciful fanfare
…a dreamer in reverie of dreamless nights

reverberating down endless fjords
  louder than an aching heartbeat
an alluring cardio-tinnitus
  ringing at the wavelength of life

clouds appear oblivious to such calls
  forever bordering sea and sky
albeit restlessly on the move
  concealing their turbulence within

myself bound to superficial drifting
  keel scraping along jagged depths
aimlessly navigating the narrows
  deaf to the serenade of reason

awakening autumn air
absorbed with thrown caution
a penchant for yawning leaves
an affinity for desiccated hearts

stirring lakeside willows
whisking emotions away
wafting feminine fragrance
in walking women's wakes

moving to its own designs
gusting in pursuit of change
swirling clouds of romantic disarray
into dizzying vortexes of possibility

expanding the bellows of intimacy
lovesmith for glowing molten souls
passionately ignited, vulnerably cooled
forging bonds, tempering existence

Time...a puzzle
   to realists and surrealists alike

Time...a puzzle
   of grand pieces
    obvious if obtuse
     obtrusive and obstructive
   laboriously laid to waste
    constructing a picture of existence
     solid yet stolid

Time...a puzzle
   of fine pieces
    subtle if sharp
     spacious and serene
   pensively placed at random
    culminating in a mosaic of life
      fragmented yet feeling

Time...a puzzle of pieces
   contained within a box
   ...or...
   in a different dimension altogether...

Budapest Utca; Rainy Evening
...were Caillebotte a Hungarian

notes of ginger and honey
savory **** of cabernet
improvisational watercolors
harmonious star ascending

if only time knew when to stop
when enough was perfect
heartbreak would be extinct
intimacy...infinite

My heart yearns for what once was
   my mind fighting to hold the line in a quiet battle
  
Time, relentlessly persistent in its attempts to erase
   dragging my life forward into fading memory

Moments attenuating, absorbed by the past
   distorted in all but the essential
  
But their essence is distilled in my soul
   dormant in an archived strength and purity

Occasional mindbursts of beauty are released
   refusing to be contained or denied

A certain scent in the air, a certain quality of light
   a lyric of song, a touch of breeze...all catalysts

Spontaneously transported into a joyful state
   I'm consumed by a déjà vu of carefree ambiance

Bejeweled compartments spill their contents
   washing over my mind in a composite nostalgia

Familiar waves of concentrated being saturate
   my existence for a compelling glimpse of the idyllic

In those fleeting reveries of peaceful contentedness
   I feel completely at home within myself

such a feral, taunting creature
   concealed in anxious mind shadow
elusive as the day is too long

its refracted image submerged
   beneath comprehension's surface
defying every attempted grasp

its soothing and alluring voice
   subtly indistinct to my disquiet
like words whispered into a fan

persistent as a ubiquitous urchin
charmingly offering promises
disguised as roses in her tiny hand

depriving as inanimate loveliness
pinned for posterity under glass
posing as a butterfly's fragile elegance

precious as tears welling involuntarily
in a singular moment of transient truth
when a beauty is fully comprehended

…such is the desperation of time

when one door closes...
then it can also be locked
an unintentional specialty of mine

some close of their own volition
others require a little nudging
leaving those that need be kicked

i've walked through them all
beneath their porticos of promise
over their thresholds of dreams

spaces beyond so warm and inviting
or ominously dark and foreboding
but entry is inevitably mandatory

a lament in keyhole retrospective
reduced in scope and visibility
incomprehensibly limiting foresight

begrudgingly resigned to redesign
wishes trapped beyond mortal reach
accessible only with a skeleton key

A black and white world doesn't suit me
  I have a visceral response to generalizations
  that serve to minimize, demonize, marginalize

Neither can I accept an existence sheltered in grey
  restrictively deliberating in the narrow space
  between cautious optimism and healthy skepticism

The spectrum of possibility is infinite
  when seen with an open mind and giving heart
  at the risk of discovering beauty

Homeless old beggar                                Elderly, destitute man in serious need
disgusting and annoying                          really down and out, desperate
degrades the neighborhood                     probably feels safe around here
aggressively accosts me                            approaches me hopefully
thinks I'm an easy touch                           believes he can count on me
unappreciative...always wants more       honest and humble about his needs
likely spends it on ***** and cigarettes  maybe I'll bring him food next time
Takes advantage of my good nature       Fortunate that I'm in a position to help

appearing without warning
gently viscous in her flow
oblivious of her potency

infusing the atmosphere
breath of anise laced honey
tasteful in her subtlety

gifting sanity gracefully
a willow swaying on hilltop
palatable sensuality

a playful elegance
colors the uncertainty
in her whispered concern...
are you sure?

make no mistake...
this is a poem of love and libation

Inherent nearsightedness
  a natural tendency
  to appreciate flaws up close
Inherited farsightedness
  an acquired ability
  to step back and perceive beauty

microchaos...macrobalance

a semblance of perfection...
all the reality one needs

Please don't take me for granite,
     despite my sometimes polished surface.
My strength isn't a constant.
I must bend to the pressures
     of sorrow and loss.

Please don't take me for granite,
     I am not cold to the touch.
I am not resistant to the
     stains of memory.
Granted, we both have failing points.

At what point can I call myself a poet?

If I could fully articulate what and how I felt
  at the moment when I watched my mother
  slowly slip away from me and this world

If I could completely convey the oppressive sense of loss
  the helplessness, the hopelessness, the loneliness
  the shocking realization of irreversibility, the finality

If my words could make you feel the draining of my soul
  the relinquishment of having even an instant in the future
  when it seems that all is perfect in my world

If I could construct a phrase that could relate the emptiness
  behind the grief that comes with knowing that no longer would
  birthdays and holidays be wrapped in her joy and infectious spirit

If my poem could shout out to you the overwhelming regret
  that accompanies the inability to hold her, to kiss her, to say I'm sorry
  or to tell her just how very much I love her ever again

If I were truly able to do these things
  maybe then I could call myself a poet


                                 Happy Mother's Day, Mom
                                    I miss you & I love you!
                                            ****'s & ooo's

creation rests within intricacies
  rainbows occupy little space
imagination is pervasive
  hope encompasses galaxies

sentiment imploring reason
  heart negotiating the mind
sentient reconciling reality
  dreams awaiting reincarnation

faith in earnest development
  amidst premature existential loss
artistically loving expression
  crafting interstitial intimacy

occurring slowly, imperceptibly
efficacy being subtly reduced
no longer radiating as it once had
decaying in all that matters

life awaiting reconception
metamorphosis to wholeness
but transition is rarely painless
its passage dark and damp

anxious waking in predawn gloom
curled within the womb of familiar
under a fraying comforter of security
worn even too thin for reality veiling

cutting the cord to the past is crucial
mindfully maintaining nurturing ties
a healthy present breathes its own air
into a future released from half-life

an infinity of predestined roles
an inclusive experience in totality
as every fiber, thread, and patch
in the quilt of being that is god

serial embodiment in all matter
animal, vegetable, and mineral
earth, atmosphere, and aether
purposeful suffering and solitude

new souls emerging from the cycle
comprehensive awareness fulfilled
a nebula of creative expansion
from a supernova of spirituality

novices grasping for comprehension
floundering with loving compassion
welling tears of confused recognition
from a source of obscured recollection

collective consciousness in transformation
the cumulative effect of genuine connection
to appreciate the strength of a star
to respect the divinity of a weakness

Beauty does not escape me
     I smell it; I breathe it in deeply
It sings to the essence of memory
     Reviving my soul

  wild summer grasses on warm, lazy air
  the trace of perfume in an empty elevator
  the earthy wood of a forest

I can only hope that beauty escapes me