Before the time of speech when men
Had only thought as guide, would they turn
Brow to daybreak and weep for relief, at first
Sight of their savior sun who chased the
Demons of the darkness away?

Not knowing why they were spared endless
Night, just feeling alive at the scent of
Morning dew, enacting their penance by the
Exuberance of their charge, to hunt and chase and
Squeeze the glorious hours til they were
Forced to hold vigil once more in the starlight.

Terrible it must have been, not even to know the
Names of those timely forces of mercy and
Salvation, to which all creation owed devotion.

Fortunate I am, to know the name of my sun, my
Apollo, without whose light I might wither, without whose
Return I might never be whole, at peace.

Crocus-hearted bloom, in careful ways
he cultivating quiet love inside
that snow-filled part of him. Across I stray
the border of his acres, vast and wide.

Through his field I dragged my hungry bones,
but the landscape holds no place for me.
The gentle gardener has tilled his rows
and through the soil he has spent his seeds.

Somewhere a lady wears her mother's dress
shining  ivory, pale as orchid bulbs.
Her heart it bangs and thunders on his chest
like storms, and in their rain I am dissolved.

Woman, hold him through the night when dreams
of me rise like demons from the angry sea.

Somethings can touch you deep inside
Can make you want to cry,
Emotions that you can't describe
No matter how hard you try,

The touch of a tiny baby's hand
The fragrance of a flower,
The simplicity of a grain of sand
Or the significance of an hour,

To see the twinkling stars at night
Or taste the fresh homemade pie,
Who needs to question how or when
Who needs to know where or why?

To hear the angelus ring at six
To know that evening is nigh,
We know there's got to be
Somebody bigger than you and I.

If there was a way that I could turn
The pages back to that single moment,
I would, but for now, I simply yearn.

Your hands lay below mine,
Gently warming all of the heartache
That I had so recently left behind.

My head lay on your shoulder,
My eyes grazed your sun-kissed face.
Beauty lies not only in the beholder.

I still remember the strength
I felt in your tender embrace,
Each breath in unison and faith.

For a moment, we both had earned
A break from worries and tears,
A step back from hard lessons learned.

You stirred. I reluctantly moved
My loving eyes from your lips,
A quiet smile as a gift was proved.

You softly whispered my name,
A much sweeter sound when from
The mouth that set my soul aflame.

A tear slipped from my eye,
Speaking thousands of volumes
No one else would ever understand.

As your heartrending gaze held
My eyes, you tenderly put your lips
Over the glass tear that wouldn't be withheld.

As time passed we shared our love
That utterly surpassed our beings
Our hearts flying upwards as a dove.

Our bodies lay under the willow tree,
The sun was setting. We were finally free.


© 2/25/13

Music thumps
bass booming through your feet
into your heart
and out to your fingers
that grip your flimsy red cup
filled to the brim with froth
like the room
filled with people
and lots of air
that's filled with sweat and voices
that smell like the alcohol
that no longer sits in the bottles and cans
you see covering every surface
you walk from group to group
taking and adding to each conversation
that passes through your clouding mind
that is still watching
that girl flip her hair
as she talks to the boy
that has his hand
on the *** of another girl
who's laughing with the people
she would never talk to
if she wasn't holding
that cup
that matches yours
and his
and hers
and theirs
that slosh over a little when they
dance all close and grimy
because our culture promotes
flippancy
which feels a lot like
fun
and you're not quite sure
how you've noticed that
everyone is leveled
because they're so
high on life and love
and drinks and drugs
and it doesn't quite make sense
but you come to the conclusion
in your mildly impaired state
that all that stuff in movies
isn't all that fake
No, it's just High School

Oh it's just the little things
the way she hummed
and the way he sings
the warm tea
that tickles my nose
the wet dog tongue
that tickles my toes
that look you throw across the hall
that gut wrenching feeling
when you fall
the warm breeze
that envelops the night
the millions of stars
that twinkle bright
the moment at the top of a slide
the feeling that follows
a really good cry
the kind of laughter
that makes you hurt
the comfort you get
from that old ugly shirt
the moments you forget to count
that all add up
to
being
   happy

her hair was the dark sky
splashing over the edges of her pillow;
waves of black velvet ink,
spilled by reckless writers
while writing their love story
all over the cotton sheets of paper

her laugh was the moon;
shining a path through the hours of their shared whispers
and comforting him, the weary night traveler
who no longer felt lost

her eyes were the stars;
so bright and breathtaking,
behind them hid so much mystery,
he wondered how she could see

he soaked in every moment
and wished for an endless night