His love was a sort of
branch of the heart,
forever reaching,
with rough bark that
chafed the skin
and precious, sticky sap that
ran beneath the buds.
When it stormed,
its petals plastered the ground,
a dewy, soggy mess,
and prettied up the mud.
Until winter, and the weight of snow, when
it cracked, tore, broke
and fell without a sound.

True, their marriage had far beyond ripened,
it had aged with the great city.
But that majesty was dashed
when the emperor's wife
had the veil--lifted from her eyes,
much like it had been years ago,
to find her leader
with that Young Woman,
whose eyes still bore the veil of
Stupidity.

The wife ran from the room, unseen,
to rejoin the flowers, the setting sun,
still thankful
for at least her own wisdom.

When I saw him in class he had his head bent down
In the farthest corner of the room
With a leather coat and a crooked smile
That was all I needed to swoon

He’s not a **** or the lead in the play
But he’s got a Harley and he swept me away
And the girls all think they can get to his heart
But they don’t even know where to start

(‘Cause all they know is)
That he looks so fine, yeah he looks so fine
But they don’t know that he’s already mine
Yeah he picked me out from the misfit crowd
And someday we’re gonna get outta this town
He looks so fine, he looks so fine
And the time we spent was sublime

When he asked me to prom all the girls were surprised
They watched as he looked me right in the eyes
How silly that they thought they stood a chance
To get him to take them to the dance

He knocked on the door at 7:04
I answered in a periwinkle dress
And he smiled at me in a new black tux
(What a fox!)
And you can guess the rest

(‘Cause all you know is)
That he looks so fine, yeah he looks so fine
And now you know that he’s already mine
Yeah he picked me out from the misfit crowd
And someday we’re gonna get outta this town
He looks so fine, yeah he looks so fine
And the time we spent was sublime

Death is a thing unsatisfied
That creeps into the hall.
He taps you on the shoulder—then,
You smell the urging Gall—

He pulls you back into the Dark—
You hear the final Bell.
The Beast will celebrate the night
As he drags you to Hell.

He steals you from your ill-spent life,
What man cannot—he takes—
You lose the light, the air—yet win
The promise of your Fate—

For once your soul is trapped below,
He rises yet again—
To wrap the hall in Dust—and hide
The footsteps where you’ve been.

It’s not enough to move a rug
To cover up your Stain—
So Death performs his spotless job
And feasts on your remains.

The gnat upon my letterpress
Truly cannot sense
How far apart the world it knows
Is from gods and men.
It sits upon my novel
Walks across the page
The words of Charlotte Bronte
Have become its stage.
And yet it knows of nothing
More than eat and sleep
But it crept across her knowledge
And now is in her keep.

So I cannot say "I love you"
One more time
Those words, they taunt me
For they do not rhyme

I'm through with words
And they with me
I'll still my lips
And finally speak.

Here, my love
Are the only words
That can be said
They rhyme, they dance
Let them float over your head

Listen to the whispering wind
"Peace"
Hear the calling flock of wren
"Free"

Feel the tides around your feet
"Steady, strong"
Feel the way your heart can beat
"The sweetest song"

Look up to the sun at noon
"Heat"
See the whitest, fullest moon
"Complete."

I cannot say "I love you"
One more time
Those words, they can't explain
As well as mine

I'm through with words
And they with me
I'll close my eyes
And you'll finally see

That here, my love
Are the only words
That can be said
They rhyme, they dance
Let them float over your head

You have shown me
"Peace"
You have made me
"Free"
With you, I am
"Steady, strong"
Together, we make
"The sweetest song"
I need your
"Heat"
For you, my love, have made me
"Complete."

What is choice?
I did not decide
to meet you.
What is fate?
Could I have been destined
to need you?

Can there be
no maybes?
No gray
between black
     and
white --
(Abyss between the cliffs,
the nothing between everything)
-- Only "will," and "won't,"
never "might."

My mother, my brother:
Is it fate the love they give me,
and choice I hand it back?
Is it unteachable, unbreakable,
the bond within a pack?
And what of love found later on
that seems of greater worth?
Could the prophetic mistress, Fate,
grow this love and that at birth?

Is it only fate to love the ones
   you?
    raised
Who
And choice to love the one
   you?
    lifts
Who

So is it choice or is it fate?
There can be nothing in between.
Yet somehow,
though I did not choose to meet you,
or fall in love that day,
I would not have it another way.

No in between...?
I feel I have found the gray,
the twilight between night and day,
the little nothings in the everything
that make it all worthwhile.

It's in between introductions
and forever spent together
It's in between the sheets,
the covers of an album.
It's in between our smiles.
The in between is what we love --
What we live--
-- Whether choice or fate --
It's the bridge over abyss.
It's the love that stops your falling.
A second, a year, a look, a kiss.

This idea of choice, of fate,
it's unimportant, obsolete.
It matters only
What lies in between.