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Fullfreddo May 2015
~

a strange place to start
having not truly begun,
already beat down by the
lowdown

own a million rose colored words,
but some assembly required,
that's when the foreknowledge truth~rules
burns brain holes

easy is never
free,
poetry writing is
cussing hard work

~
spring rains cloaking warmth,
summer's stunning sunsets
demand submissive awed silence,
autumnal leave drops anointing
your refreshed humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
it is only within winter's white bitterness
lip tasting,
million tear-shaped snowflaked words,
is the crowning visible
of the head of
a newborn babe poet

                                        ~                  ­                            

hard.

Capital Hard.

in the beginning,
there was one,
a first work

and the knowing,
if it wasn't hard,
it could not be
any good,
makes it possible
to ease on
down
this fearful
revelationary road
trip
Born May 22, 2015
My first poem.
A forward rush by the lamp in the gloom,
And we clasped, and almost kissed;
But she was not the woman whom
I had promised to meet in the thawing brume
On that harbour-bridge; nor was I he of her tryst.

So loosening from me swift she said:
“O why, why feign to be
The one I had meant—to whom I have sped
To fly with, being so sorrily wed,”
’Twas thus and thus that she upbraided me.

My assignation had struck upon
Some others’ like it, I found.
And her lover rose on the night anon;
And then her husband entered on
The lamplit, snowflaked, sloppiness around.

“Take her and welcome, man!” he cried:
“I wash my hands of her.
I’ll find me twice as good a bride!”
—All this to me, whom he had eyed,
Plainly, as his wife’s planned deliverer.

And next the lover: “Little I knew,
Madam, you had a third!
Kissing here in my very view!”
—Husband and lover then withdrew.
I let them; and I told them not they erred.

Why not? Well, there faced she and I—
Two strangers who’d kissed, or near,
Chancewise. To see stand weeping by
A woman once embraced, will try
The tension of a man the most austere.

So it began; and I was young,
She pretty, by the lamp,
As flakes came waltzing down among
The waves of her clinging hair, that hung
Heavily on her temples, dark and damp.

And there alone still stood we two;
She once cast off for me,
Or so it seemed: while night ondrew,
Forcing a parley what should do
We twain hearts caught in one catastrophe.

In stranded souls a common strait
Wakes latencies unknown,
Whose impulse may precipitate
A life-long leap. The hour was late,
And there was the Jersey boat with its funnel agroan.

“Is wary walking worth much pother?”
It grunted, as still it stayed.
“One pairing is as good as another
Where is all venture! Take each other,
And scrap the oaths that you have aforetime made.”

—Of the four involved there walks but one
On earth at this late day.
And what of the chapter so begun?
In that odd complex what was done?
Well; happiness comes in full to none:
Let peace lie on lulled lips: I will not say.
Miss Masque Jan 21
If I will it,
Will it?
Mold it into the shape of kisses,
Send it on the Winter wind,
Will whatever it wishes.

Stop in time,
The snowflaked memories of my mind,
Zoom in past the reflection of the sign
That we passed and then doubled back.

Wind up Wind down,
Rise up, Slow up,
Follow the tug,
Follow the pocket square,
Dressed to the nines,
Am proud to be with ya.

Zoom back out,
Push through unshoveled snow
Push through the front door
Push into my arms
Pushed against the wall.

Stop in time,
This moment is perfect,
Nothing could change it,
No way to frame it,
Remember it hard,
Recall every detail:
His smile, his beard, his coattails,
The bits of snow left on his coat still--
because the moment he saw me we were On.

The feel of his coat against my skin,
Breathing in the smell of him,
Then we tasted
Each other so close under the covers
We made it
About each other and for one another
Our bond reached out and shook us
And there was nothing to say when it took us
We both knew
You knew what I knew
We both knew.

Now when I send tiptoe kisses
You feel them.
When you send me your embrace
I feel that too.
I can hear you in my heart and it sings back
Whistles back a callback or two.

We only have time.
We have memories to align
With our presence,
Stamp our mark.

The energy of us
Leaves an imprint
Like ghost tiptoe kisses
And ghost long embraces
Ghost hearing your voice
and the timbre and warmth
Just as present.

I couldn't be happier
Except
If I could will it,
I would will it--
So that we don't have to sustain on
Ghost tiptoe kisses
and ghost long embraces
Anymore.
I miss my person.

— The End —