what were you thinking as
you walked into that lake
with your pockets full of
rocks and a letter for your
husband on the kitchen table?
your mind ate you alive
and there was nothing
anyone could do to stop it
- how i wish i could have stopped it

Dreaming near the lake
Mesmerized by fleeting waves
Thoughts drift back to you

I poured my dreams into a lake
And watched them slowly dissipate
Those tender drops dissolved in waves
Rolling through the thoughts I’ve saved

Drenched in sunlight, dancing there
Those dreams evolved into a mist
Lifting up, it kissed the sky
Spinning rainbows for my eyes

Butterflies in brilliant light
What a sight as dreams take flight
Whatever comes, whatever goes
The ripples in the lake still flow

New thoughts reach back, deep down inside
As wonder drifts up from the waves
The lake returns so many dreams
Her wispy visions come to me

I let the dreams flow over me
The lake has now become a sea
I’m all absorbed in its salty spray
There many cares are washed away

I often think of the swimming body,
arms unfurling the rough afternoon lake
into smooth planks while stretching
through the catch,
carving mosaic reflections into
shapes reflecting glimpses of the sun
before strewn onto the surface like
broken pearl necklaces.

It was in this practice I learned patience,
in the process of the crossing
and perfection of glide,
the conclave with the lake and flow of
language between body and water
the dialogue of the skimming, rotating torso,
forehead below surface line, chin down
consummation of movement.

The body suspended
above the muddy bottom,
stretching through the round shoulder,
the square shape of the hand
with fingers slightly apart coiffing
currents,
surging naked anatomy forward.

In Autumn, the buoy clangs louder
conversing through fog
of the changing season
to lake swimmers, row on row,
blinded at their bow
reminding them of the turn,
the edge of the precipice
before cavernous depths
pilfer reason,

      those masters of rhythm
      turn attention to stroke of arms
      away from blackness beyond sight,
      where creatures dwell.

Pivoting parallel to the lakefront,
elongated through the feet,
into the legs, along the chest,
barren ******* cutting waters
connecting one shore to the next,

      before absolute zero of winter sets in
      the vein splitting East-West coursing
      between inlets, skirting islands
      and birch skinned canoes
      dancing atop foamy plumes,

It was in this practice I learned patience,
when all thoughts are flex of body,
the slight curve of torso
and abdominal reach toward shore unseen
through glistening sheets of
morning’s mosaic surface

I work next to a lake,
which spreads out from the base
of a mountain.
Everyday the stony guards
reflect off it's surface,
the trees motionless in the breezeless
landscape.
I never hear the birds,
nor the occasional fish splash,
too occupied by my dash,
the clicks, keyboards, spread sheets,
plugging away at the base of a mountain,
filling the frame
above my desk

Silent, unexpected ripples
As the first flakes softly alight on the lake,
A crisp inhale with eyes closed
Followed by a joyous vaporization of cloud.
When vision flutters back into focus,
A spectacle ever-more lovely than the last.
The muffled crunching around the trail,
near-muted chattering of chipmunks,
windy flurries whistling then growing placid,
the softened screech of a hawk
subdued now to an awed whisper -
Mounting and falling like a Debussy.
Clearer and more humbly triumphant
than cathedral bells.

This suite - this bright panorama
Shows me to the brink of an elation within
And brushes my crystalline spirit.
It sings and I overflow -
Light pours drop by rapturous drop
From each eye.

seeing headlights
pass by
and watching the shadow
dance on the walls
reminds me of
lazy summer days
at the lake house.
in the upstairs room
where i would lay next to you
on the big white bed.
we would go downstairs and
have a cinnamon roll
or two.
then splash around
in the lake all day with
the mud in our toes
water around our ankles
scrapes on our knees
cold water in our belly buttons
life jackets pushing
against our chests
and the hot sun
baking our soft skin.
back then
the days were like months
but everything got fast
once we changed grades.
the days were like hours.
i was too busy
to watch the shadows
dance on the walls.
i woke up alone
ate a bowl of cereal
and saw you in class.
no more mud
no water
no scrapes
no life jackets
no sun
but every moment filled
to the brim with
the feeling
of a crush.
hazy daydreams in math
vivid fantasies in english
wild hopes in art
always on your team in gym.
back then
the days were like hours
but the hours were filled with you
and now my hours are
empty
desperately trying
to find someone who
i can compare to you.
the shadows
don't dance on the walls
in my room anymore
but when i see them somewhere else
i think of you.

Sometimes,

I think of taking my hands
And ripping - splitting - cracking,
My ribcage in two.
                                                            ­            
The breastbone splintering apart,
My torso opening like a rotten tree.
The inside hollowed,
Like a lake that has been emptied
 
I've convinced myself that
Fragrant flowers
Would grow there.

That they would grow feverishly
In the gnawing gap
I had created.

And that time would preserve
What I had done.