Less I am a fisherman
with patient gaze on
undulating seas

and more bait
submerged
heart on the hook
waiting
for you,
beloved,
to cast away this
eternity

Talking freely.

Please.
Talk to me.
I need that thought of.
Uh.
Nevermind.


Garrett Johnson.

A love poem for Terry Collett

**** it, not a single word affixed,
and tears come gushing, flooding my cheeks paths,
into my mouth comes the salty outpouring

my nose blubbery, it’s hard to type
when you can’t see and the tissue is
engrossed, engrasped in your only
good writing hand

a lovely Sunday by the Atlantic coast,
listening to 60s folk and rock n’ roll,
mostly love songs of seeded sadness,
simplistic so many tunes of heartbreak
long ago planted in our respective souls

each one reminds, restores,
a heart poking,
all your recollections penetrate,
as if I was nearer to thee,
and I too, weep,
missing your Oliver

be advised there will never be enough poems
to make one/me not want more,
for ****** you, these love poems into my interior,
learning from you the human

how

so much more than
the when where and why one loves
a child resolutely, absolutely

for each child the unique reasons differ,
but never the

how,

for you, of this,
are the the poet exemplar

this makes me weep
for so man-many reasons,
strangely, a stream of delight
runs sweeter deeper within my tears,
for which I thank you
with this
love poem

When I see her again
Let me tell you
Every cell becomes alive
I awake

The complimentary serendipity
The particle charge of
Reading from the same mind
The quantum sharing of two universal whole beings of light
That somehow got entangeled
And when I see her
It all makes perfect sense
This and this and this...