innocent blood
of our real
darkness

loving rooms
and ******
skies

I tried a calculator
to determine just how many
times I've thought of you
over these neglected years

After a few hours it just
laughed at me: ERROR
I had to laugh as well
The ****** thing was right

goodbyes—
there were always goodbyes
and silence
more silence
but always more goodbyes

goodbyes—
ended without an hello
just started
we began again
but always more goodbyes

goodbyes—
ended in our reunions
maybe virtually
perhaps personally
but always more goodbyes

goodbyes—
this time it's goodbye
that just could—
that just might—
that just may—
stick.

social distancing
stay-at-home orders...
the world is finally
getting in line
with me

I write, then
your words appear quickly
almost out of nowhere,
of nowhere that I'm sure,
from no place I'm
certain exists

My handful of shabby
sentences elicit a flood
and your thoughts engulf
me, engage me, suckle
me on hope like a
starving beast

These, our seasons,
always returning to dances
that we know and we do so
unduly well: I will injure
you—without intent—and
you'll withdraw

again,
until next time

you, ignorant still
your talk almost turns to courage —
as once did your poems—
around years erased

a written anniversary
memories of you and me, stirred
******* engraved with the time
when trust gifted us

inevitable frost patterns
encircle our moments

infinitely falling mirrors
that quietly sparkle

send icy messages of
wind and eternal regret

Masculinity is pervasively formulaic
and just a bull in the forest to me
Women are far more genuinely human
and breathe comparably better air

at times, my heart asks
why can one hate so many?
and who made this rule
that we may love only one?

hearts filled with love
are a rightly worthwhile goal
but actually: love only one,
fall in love with just one

to love more than one's
worse than not loving at all
hate whom you will, dear
but fall in love with just one

call me

if you have too many thoughts

if you can't sleep

I always think of you

I never sleep

when we began, we had no secrets
and we devoured each other's honesty
like milk, like honey

now we are weaned and we hunger for
any truth among the muddle of secrets
kept from each other's mouths

God’s flaming muddy puddles wanna smile
but those flickering window flashes lie to me
returning Bible darkness from beaming light

I reach, raising these soiled linen shades
to the pure, blessed tones of the church bell
that claw, tear, but mend—dancing, echoing

exposed, keeping my willing palms on the book
healing emotional knives licking the demon poets
it’s just a dusty Bread Week Sunday, after all

I believed you lost your ability to hurt me
long ago

and I do like to think that remains true
even now


[but you still have the ability to cut me deeply
in so many unforeseen ways]

I wish I understood what's going on

[no reply]

I wish I understood the meaning behind what you write

[no reply]

I wish I understood what you're not writing

[no reply]

I wish... never mind

now I get it

Usually I see
     light spilling out from beneath the closed door
Usually I hear
     your breath whispering across the panes of glass
Usually I feel
     your touch even if it's just in my dearest dreams
But this time
     but this time

nothing
     nothing at all

we sadly haven't drowned our blues
like fragile creatures, the snake drained
yeah, we weave a troubled escape
out of someone else's everlasting bruises

our romance worships forgotten letters
seemingly locked in imagined contact
a prayer drum’s darkened destination
caring aching crying, but changing entirely

Her scent kept the animals unsure
She imagined people living happily, ordinarily
utterly soaked in their usual, sober directions
masking traces that suffer a sort of revealed thrill:
A lean cat’s desire to embrace men’s secrets
in nice boxes, shaken innocence and sour blue haze,
warmth flooding those damnable death-oil pools
Yes, her scent kept all of the animals unsure

It was a fine white linen tablecloth the size of Sevastopol
and I smoothed out the slightest wrinkles one by one, flicking away
tiny—almost imperceptible—crumbs

Front-end loaders delivered the silverware, crate after crate, and
wave upon wave of thundering Chinooks dropped parcels of pleated,
excruciatingly well-starched dinner napkins

An army of kid-gloved waitstaff painstakingly unwrapped a myriad
of fragile place-settings and carefully laid them straight, bristling with
an anticipation heretofore unknown

A steady scarlet stream of hosed fire engines rumbled past to fill each
finely-stemmed water glass around shards of ice chainsawed, ton by ton,
from the diminishing glaciers of Greenland

The steamy aroma of luncheon filled the atmosphere enveloping most
of the entire Eastern seaboard as the sound of tongs metallically clattered
amidst the hiss of the multitudes of grills

All appeared in readiness as I surveyed this near-perfect hall, the size of
Barcelona, and murmuring voices of those waiting mingled with sunlight
passing through the sheer, breezy drapery

I smiled wryly to myself for today I would be supping with those who
have also experienced the loneliness I often feel inside

we once shared potential
now shameful, disgusted, belittled
we slept together in prisons of
what we tend to avoid:
memory

traumatized adult children
now sleeping, eating, cleansing
facing the prospect of time
unashamedly scavenging
emptiness

Sometimes you're my elder
and sometimes you're so young
Sometimes I think you're crazy
But I believe that you're the one
These are the very words I told you:
Sometimes it's difficult to feel sad
when I can feel you all around me
and see a future I never had

If I could paint a portrait
that could show you what I see
I really think you'd understand
more of yourself and more of me
But I just don't have the talent
not the colors, nor the eye
to paint you both inside and out
but how I'd love to try

So sing to me of all the things
you find it hard to tell
and stagger me with your written words
just when I'm sure I know you well
Trouble me with your unnamed fears
your thunderstorms and rain
and trust each other as we move together
through our growing pains

I sip my morning coffee
and you open a bottle of Coke
I give you a little kiss, but I wonder
if there's really any hope
You listen to me slurp
while I listen to you burp
Sometimes I have to wonder
if we can ever make it work
'cause I'm a cup of coffee guy
and you're a bottle of Coke

You've never seen a Western
Where's your streaming service hide 'em?
Those biopics about Russian aristocracy
won't be suggested right beside them
You order pretzels at the theater, baby
and I get Junior Mints
Do you think that maybe we both
should be picking up these hints?
You're a cheesy pretzel girl at the movies
and I'm just the Junior Mints

How I can watch a title fight
you find completely incomprehensible
But as you know little about boxing, your
position's a little less than defensible
You don't know the rope-a-dope
but I'll admit I don't watch daytime soaps
and I don't criticize them because
do I watch 'em?  Nope.
I'm a nighttime rope-a-dope kind of guy
and you're the daytime soaps

I'm just a battered old paper cup of take-out coffee
girl, and you're a refreshing... curvy... glistening...
completely and wholly satisfying...
bottle of Coke

Isn't it funny
how the more I need you
the more you drift away?

You'll feel so hurt
when I do end up
getting along anyway

Isn't that funny?

Drive
Someday alive
Someday I’ll find terrific
     love, crap, courage
even though
even though
     Could have
         used a Human author
who understands Poetry crap stuff
Could have used a Human author
    who understands Poetry crap stuff
Driving alone,
    confused
Someone called
    the words
          Someone didn’t call you
Someday
happily becoming
    a used Human author
          understanding Poetry crap stuff
Drive:
    first Pretty Big nice flower arrangement
Drive:
    first Pretty Big nice funny arrangements
Someday alive
    someday, Friends, available
             finding terrific love
Absolutely we could have used a Human author
    who understands Poetry
Absolutely I could have used a Human author
    understanding Poetry crap stuff
Fall
      day,
Keep
      reading
Find
terrific
love:

      Drive

You’ve placed these boxes carefully
   almost ruthlessly in my path
Must I sidestep them?
   Simply tear into them?
Or draw myself a heavy breath, pause
   and rest here among them?
Are they just packages full of our long ago
   or perhaps flush with a future?

The Question
Just out of curiosity:
How do you picture your perfect life?

The Reply
I gave this a lot of thought last night
I guess in the most basic sense:
everyone I love is near me

I wonder sometimes
if you knew me every day now
if you would even like me anymore

Joy seems so far away now
and we used to feel it all the time

mixed layers of alcohol thoughts—asleep
collapsed—freely replaying frozen cycles of sins
that biting absence of happiness, permanent:
the perfect winter-silent footsteps of a man

the wind at last has shifted 'round
from the north it comes rushing in
cutting deeply into my face and hands
sending shivers along the surface of my skin

the temperature here is dropping fast
snow and ice are beginning to fall
you can feel it well up inside your bones
cold enough to make me want to cry out:

I'm icebound
crystal forms beginning to mass
I tell you I'm icebound
waiting for the storms to pass
i need the warmth of seeing you again
to finally start
the beating of my heart

pavements encrusted in sheets of glass
the winter holds me like a vice
i have to watch my every step
my feet so cold they cannot feel the ice

seems as if my senses have all been dulled
snowflakes drift as they fill the sky
they don't even melt when they touch my skin
feeling so numb it makes me want to cry out:

I'm icebound
crystal forms beginning to mass
I tell you I'm icebound
waiting for the storms to pass
i need the warmth of seeing you again
to finally start
the beating of my heart

They saw Her brightest hour
blest of thy Humble King
and, thus, o'er Her, garlanded
marvels in that once-forgettable manger
blooming in the Holy Mother’s heart

Then the harpings in the manger
did smile unto the Lamb of Mary,
strangely heralding the night-tide
beneath a dome of heavenly stars, a sea of
quiet hours and Mary’s grateful prayer

Guide His noble crown, ward
of that Humble purple chaplet
O Speechless Child, wrapped so in
kingly prayers that never had Bethlehem
in nativity kept, nigh or afar

Definitely a trouble spot
I don't usually mind sharing myself
     with others, but it is mostly in a
     superficial way

I can't say I've tried all that hard
     to improve my ability at it

I think most of my problem is
     lack of trust in most people
     I communicate with

Self-disclosure isn't easy, even
     with people I trust, but it's not
     quite as bad

Needless to say, there's a lot of room
    for improvement

Assertiveness: standing up
for your own rights;
Don't infringe upon or ignore
anyone else's rights, though

It is not aggressiveness

Start with an "I" statement;
It should be descriptive, not
evaluative or condemnatory

she'll carry morning’s fading enemies:
a spiritual ruin and swallowed despair

blinding violent piercing stolen sea fires
one's vain movements—sacred, soothing

tortured poets watch cancer drifting past
gently stalking the pink dog-kiss of roses

radio band remorse is hiding stale lessons
gathering inside softly-colored Jesus static

I can’t promise you anything better
No, my concern toward old roles,
negative behaviors, is now leaving
My positive emotions are merging,
striving, changing—an act of will
I've withdrawn at last
                                                        Trul­y complete
               Deserving, needing, just one unbroken
            person—one realizing hostile situations,
            writing journals with different messages
          How sorry to know that everything I had
     relied on all of my acutely unhappy changes
         Now: Engage anything, but need nothing!

Name the feeling
but first you must recognize it
for what it is, and
realize what it is

Do it fairly specifically

Even when you use
a concrete term to describe
your feeling (ex. anger)
there is a gamut, or range:
annoyed
or raging mad?

This should be identified
clearly

interact verbally
conceive ideas together
learn to work in a group setting
learn to verbalize their own ideas
respect the contributions of others
discover creative relationships
among ideas

my heart’s comfort has not been recaptured
but, not dead to feelings anymore, I’m waiting

always seeking fleeting holes in hard places
and sleeping without much space to dream

I have suppressed; sometimes I have wept
because I’m always too uncomfortable to forget

my spirit feels the power of wings
born as I shed the full cloak of my birth
humming a quiet little verse to myself—
come!—comfort me among these flowers

soft desires freed in this, our bed of grass
I scent the warm rising dough of your skin
I sense the sun heating the dew and wonder
when will this lover wet my skin with tears?

True friends trust and love indeed
while lovers think too much and bleed
Their love ends in a graceless Hell
spoiled by thinking none too well

rarely ever straying, mired in those mourning hours
trying to recover tired shadows of how it once began
counting all of those buried nights in a flat red voice

our distances are littered with blood and bone, dear
still you, by pieces and joints, strive to mend this battered love
listen, old friend, to the graying silt of bloodless waters

heart, lips, hands all once breathed, emerging slowly
no wiser now, you blindly dredge the impermeable darkness
for promptly repeated pasts, not unspoiled beginnings

not wholly betaken
as a person, disgusted
forever expecting
and drinking the poison

not wholly betaken
a dead-perfect graveyard
of memory, of sun
and of promises soiled

nothing was waiting
no, nothing was worth it
nothing, no
nothing
—no other things

yet no other person
could ever have been
so wholly betaken
or so it seems

no, no, no—no!
not so wholly betaken, no
never, not ever
so wholly betaken
     so wholly betaken
     so wholly betaken
never, not ever
     so wholly betaken as I

We trace the burden of the heart, you and I
And suffer the cold darkness together
A weary gray moon labors across the night
As we worship the seasons of our love

Time must hold its cold pen apart from regret
For a dream to write a better image
Take this sweet change and show the stars
Let your gentle dust touch my sleep

You carry a hungry heart
outside without help
Divine, burning windows
behind locks, beside sad smiles
that devour the fine light air:
They’re perfect warmth

Oh, rise breeze, cry forever
Whisper soft, hopeful comfort
Open that same courageous list
of autumn-worn memories
Mine flex—break!—under lost words
into bitterly different sounds

Soar inside the space there
Pass the sleepy crimson trees
insatiable delight, flying wonders
beautiful labors, racing the midnight
yet shaping only sore dawns because
I overlooked my lasting desire

Draw new recovery with me
in other ripe and formal strokes
Golden water tumbling down
lifting bubbles, trying to comment
whenever that same message listens
and always winks this time of year

Yesterday’s door, so up-to-date
Why chance a giggle, merely
to forget, a chance to lean on that glass
and borrow those three paper lines—
straight from where we’d dropped off—
as if their call might later amaze us

The pages fade, they’re getting worn
yellowed papers creased and torn
Yet they still can take me to a world
I now can only dream of

Once I saw the future in your eyes
and I saw in it both you and me
Now there’s nothing left to see
simply things left to only dream of

You’ve always shown yourself to me
then turned and shown me to myself
But I’m not the man I tried to be
just a man I must have dreamed of

So now I find I’m looking past
the looking-glass held in your hands
Are you the girl I knew at all?
Did I really only dream you?

I pray that you’ll hold fast to your dreams
even when there's pleasure mixed with pain
Please don’t let them get away
becoming something that you'll say that
        you'd never dreamed of

mock the jealous night
and show me new joys
bind this truth together with me
you know faith far better, my sweet love,
than I, this blessed slave possessed

so calm my fiery heart
and feed my lips your scent
while the evening plays its tepid song—
hold me trembling against this ancient darkness
even as you devise your inexorable pursuit