There is such a lack,
an incredible lack
of words to describe
how you make me feel

There is not a word for

shared annoyance
of errors,
rules of the English language.
reading a sentence that makes little sense
to confirm someone doesn’t know how to grammar

staying up ’til 3, 4, 5
to discuss simplicities and complexities,
they felt like the most important things.
Sleep is not an important thing.

joy of seeing you with a smile
rushed banters
sarcasm, conditions, laughter, and silly faces.
Silent promise to see you later

inability to walk and tell you something
at the same time.
Here is my brain, make of it what you will.
Thank you for trusting me with yours.

spaces between sleep
and getting up for the day.
Time, (what is time?)
holding, tickling, touching, skin

pretending to leave,
only to crawl back in
to your embrace, warm,
watching you rest.

your hands
that I can’t not touch.
Not because you need it,
but I do.  I hope that’s okay.  

hugs I don’t want to end,
silent or not. Close,
being next to you is the safest,
most comfortable, peaceful place to be

spontaneity and uncertainty
kiss you good-bye?
or just wink, either is fine
it’s not complacent

I don’t have to write
because I can say the words to you.
I have the words
to be a person,
with you

If you find words for all these,
I don’t I want them
I’d rather have to fully describe them and,
even then,
it would not be enough
to define the noticings and pieces
I like about you

the clamouring noise of our times
hides the holy - disables our noticing
yet there are off-beats of time we can attend

the clamouring noise of our minds
consumes our attention - distracts our soul
yet systolic beats of thought name our noticings

between the memes of our times
are counter balancing sensibilities
to pause our conviction - to open our hearts

between the memes of our minds
are roots of tradition and wisdom
to complete and challenge our understanding

so to extend our fervent hopes to good purpose
so to embrace the silence - and find blessing

for Joel Frye, who loves
“my sharing the marginalia of my life”

<>

the tiny smile in mine eyes’ white *****,
glistens,
my eyes inhabited, as is my
habit,
of your noticings of the what & wherefore
of the “it” of my writing…
the marginalia of life
as you adeptly label them…

touch you, my fingernails ,
sensing the ragged edging,
alternating with the smooth

all is revelational, all is relational,
the irreverent,
the minuscule,
the bytes of super-valued
ordinary
and the
extra-undervalued-ordinaries,
each and both,
elevated by you…
observing me observing you!

living on the margin,
doesn’t mean the unimportant,
the margin is a place,
where our mind’s neuralgia
embrace; where you-receive
my envisioning, feel my marginality’s,
my discrepancies, the odd, that oddly

that makes us even!

and
understanding my fingernails,
are what you’re touching,
my touch, your sensing.
identical, precisely provisioned,
and our invisible envisioning,
with nothing in between running interference,
is everything
finest and fine

the marginalia are,
the margin is the beginnings and
the endings of my myriad words,
the overstuffed SUV of my mind
that you help me to unload!








<§>

Thu Jan 5
5:08 pm
Manhattan