A little tipsy in the folds of Firenze, Italy
My lover weeps a tear or two
We whisper quietly
The dark of our room and the heaviness of our hearts
The fear of a love that’s lived loved and lost
Of a life flickering out like a too-short wick
We wish to be something of stories and
He wished to be the stuff of legends and
I wish that very much too
Now I shed a tear or two
how I wish he would hold my hand
And tell me how this is how things go when
You’re building a life together
Two in one
Two by two
Brick by brick
Line by line
We write this little poem or story or rhyme
And so it goes on
God, may this all be for your glory
And maybe, just a little bit for ours too?

On my knees
I’m begging thee
To see me full, completely
All in all,
all the rest
And I confess
My soul slowly depleting
Stern our stance
Hard heart glance
And sighs of sorrow deeply
Til evening comes
And sadly hums
The heavy pain of hurting

Water washes over from my head and I let it in my mouth to fall down
And words wash down with them
Maybe
also down the drain
As these words taste little like the water that touched my tongue

I escape often to a place I’ve created;
It’s a small stage in, what is it?
A bar? I think so.
But I’m there singing
Which is funny, really, because I can’t sing.
But there’s a man with a guitar there, who really can play guitar,
and I sing.
And we make a great team, he and I,
With lots of knowing in our voices.
And the whole place feels it, all the people there, drinking whatever is it they’re drinking.

Knowing what?
Whatever I’m learning. Whatever I’m feeling.
Sadness usually, I know a lot of sadness.
And maybe love— lost or found,
timely or not, whatever it may be.
But yes I know some about love also.

What I don’t know is if I want this place to be real;
Do I want to sing of sadness?
I think I’m afraid that maybe I do.
I think maybe I take every opportunity to come to that place and sing.
But I don’t care much for bars and
I can’t sing, really,

miles and miles and miles
of blue ocean and all her secrets
places no one will see or touch
even her own inhabitants dare not reach her depths
many are too afraid to look

God only knows, only sees
God only knows how many of those secrets
are folded up in her waves

perhaps He has a name for each
perhaps they take up some space in His mind
perhaps God sits in heaven,
watching the tide roll in with us,
takes deep, salty breaths with us,
and full contented smiles.

waves crash, a hello
from the far-off reaches of the world
from those little unknown places
those terrible depths
just between the sea and God

Do you think he'll ever see me?
Do you think he reads my poetry?

We share every "good morning" and every "good night"
He calls me beautiful and kisses me at midnight,

But do you think he knows that I want sometimes
to sing in small bars with dim lights in a red dress
or that I wish to spend much of my time looking at the ocean?
With the salty wind in my hair or through an airplane window.
Does he know? That I want to speak Italian in its country and
laugh while playing cards after dinner that i cooked with friends
I want to take so many deep, soul-touching breaths in so many different places and learn so many names

Does he know that I love to dance?
Or that I sometimes am good at it?
Does he see that I think in melodic lines punctuated with love?
Does he know well,
that I want to do all of this with him,
to adventure, step all around the world, make love, laugh?

Do you think he wants that too?

When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Luminous,
Brilliant,
Gilded,
Beautiful,
Bold,
Warm,
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting