A place where nothing else seems possible,
Where shoes have been removed and cast aside--
As children do at any chance to play--
Come listen to the harmony of souls.
What a word.  I wish i understood it
Better.  Once i thought i knew salvation,
Said prayers that helped a sinner get some sleep.
Some nights i lie awake and can't slow down.
Has anyone accepted love enough
To feel it in the morning like the sun?
I think my lover knows it more than i,
Whose wisdom has the shallow strength of words.
She loves me when i find myself undone.
She rights my mind when i am overcome.

Nothing changes
As the night burns
Into an unholy morning
Of despair,
A scream without translation.
American spring,
Killing season in Kentucky,
Minnesota, Carolina, Georgia,
New York.
Nothing changes but the names,
Mississippi, St. Louis, L.A.
Vigilantes and police,
Incendiary commentary by the chief
Executive
That fans the flames.
Nothing changes but the body counts,
God's sons' and daughters' stolen right
To breathe.
At least a fire gets seen.

****** afternoon.
I have no imagination.
My fantasies are memories,
Of women, mainly, though it varies
Now and then.
I learned confession as a child,
So I'm used to it now,
Don't see it as a way to paradise
Anymore, instead have always found it
Lovingly exposed, if only
For the night, occasional
Morning, or sometimes
Afternoon.

It's three a.m. at the neighbor's.
Someone's always fighting over there.
This time it's only two squad cars
And no bus--that's what they call
The ambulances, at least on the TV dramas,
But I'm drawn away from the TV.
Perhaps if I had on clothes I'd step outside.
They don't stay long this time,
Just talk out in the yard
And if anyone's taken away I've missed it.
I'm Gladys Kravitz these nights,
Watching the witching next door
Because three months ago it was a friend of mine,
Recovering from surgery or not
With a port direct to her stomach.
Crushed pills in ***** aren't real food.
Didn't know she was dying there--
Who the ambulance was for.
I don't sleep well these nights,
Don't know anyone who does.
The world has turned into a dream,
And the moon reflects mortality.

You and I are different now.
What could be said last night,
Or earlier today, has left
Its meaning far behind, so
We continue, starved for company
On sheets or under words
That might or might not celebrate
The ritual
Of acts that won't return,
Or if they do will not be recognized
As yours or mine, no fast
Or fascinating gesture having caught
A breaking second or a moving hand.
I say this knowing it has not been
Long enough for bitterness to pass
Into the future, or your eyes--
Blue as heaven's door--
To once again meet mine.