---

∴

it is in our nature to love.

it is no more a duty

then breathing is a choice.

it is something we do

to survive –

and to feel alive.

·

you may not say,

“breathe only on Tuesdays

or in rooms painted blue,”

because that would be silly

and impossible to do.

·

so too,

you may not say,

“love only the chosen,

and only those who love you,”

 

because that wouldn’t really be love

at all.

∴

 

---

 

---

∴

be careful the flowers you pick
for some do not last long in vases.

the bloom that was meant
for seasons of seasons
could perish in days
for the vainest of reasons:
displayed in glassy baths
and window sills.

how hot the sun burns if not cooled by a breeze
and a pool is no trade for the rain.

though you might claim protection
and collection of grace
when you pluck the lily from lawns,

you cannot blow air
like the Westwinds deliver
and you cannot ignite a new dawn.

set free
what nature
to nature
belongs

and conform it not to your need.

it’s splendor
comes not
from aroma
or petals
but alas,

where it grows and re-seeds.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

haven’t i been here before?
doesn’t this spot seem familiar?

the site of goodbyes
and taking retries

 

waiting
waiting
wanting

for moons to make light the shadows

waiting
waiting
wanting

for the prick of what never was
– and always shall be –
to stop taunting it’s promised stay

 

yes, we’ve been here before
and i spin in again
like a rat unsure of the maze

does time bring us back
to scenes of the crime
to espy the clues that we missed?

here is a frame –
it’s knocked off the wall
did we study the picture within?

the shapes of the figures
are foggy and faded
like colors repainted in dreams

 

no, that’s not blue.
it’s the feelings you feel
when you think about blue.

no, that’s not you.
it’s the feelings i feel
when i think about you.

 

shall we hang the displaced
back up on it’s station
or walk past the glass shards
in circles?

i am not so young
to live in ageless square one
and i beg for new lanes
to give passage.

∴

 

---

 

---

∴

you are my sweetest weight
and my most pleasurable to lift.
you delight me by your company.

it is in the caring for you that i am fed
and made happier by the charge.

if i could give thanks –
if my mind would allow it
when my heart blurts, inspired,
and my mouth makes utterance –

i’d give thanks for you.

 

what weight is burden
when it lifts you by it’s load?

 

i love you
i lift you
i grow along beside you

and find wonder again
where wonder was lost.

 

take my hand,
take my neck,
take my back and lean unto;

my legs are strong
though my heart is weary

and i’ll let you lead the way.

let me carry,
just say you love me
and keep your eyes so clear

and sweet,
and full of water
and flowing;

together, we shall go.

∴

 

 

---

---

∴

some doors close without a sound
you may try the latch
you may seek the key

but a door that is locked against you
is a futile tradesman
who refuses to deal

you’re better off
looking for
window merchants on the moon

 

there is no wall
like a door closed against you

there is no cage
like a lock that keeps you out

 

so at best,
you could lean up
against the back of the thing –

like a smoking poet
at a lamp post –

and wait for reason to hit you
before cancer does
and tell you which side of the street
holds your fate
with a pebble and a pothole
and an echo from your feet

 

but be careful as you lean
against such stable structures:
you know they don’t hold back.
and you might wonder what’s beneath them
or what softness you must lack
to be perfectly unholdable
and divested in the black

 

clip clop
click clack
it’s time to step in rain

knock knock
tick tock
some doors don’t ope’ again.

∴

---

∴

how is it that the sea
can swirl in it’s treasure,
cloaking cities underneath,
swallowing wealth
with gasping slurgs of gulp and wave,

and i pass by –

i pass by –
enchanted only by the sand
and it’s feel on my feet?

 

how is it that the earth
can build and crumble
and force and yield –
endlessly flower and feed

and i pass along –

i pass along –
with my head in the clouds,
as they say?

 

how is it that i
can be surrounded by so much abundance
and feel in possession of one thing only?

it is so small inside me –
so quiet and kept –
but it’s there,
in all it’s uncelebrated victory.

 

what remuneration do i give to the flesh,
if not sagacious strength?
what recompense do i give to breath,
if not my simplest words
said with sincerest regard?
what requital do i give to blood, if not tears?

tears

of joy,
of sorrow,
of witness,
of hope in tomorrow

of salt
and water –

it is all that i am –
a small, serous bounty –
molecules moving in mercurial sway
and searching always

for the sea.

∴

 

 

---

 

---

∴

put the bellowed pipes away
close the organ’s lid
take the lip from woodwind tip
and keep the bow hair hid

there is a new song playing
it may not sound like much

it’s disguised and hides
in the cadence of stronger strides
and wider eyes
that are clear
from truth and crying

i will raise a glass to celebrate
but refuse to drown within
for that intoxication
is too costly

it keeps old songs playing
in repeated, noiseless din

and i’d like to dance again

or if not again,
then, at last
and ceaselessly so
as the song within
does ceaselessly flow

and i will offer every instrument
within my strange possession
to give it staff and structure
and sing without concession.

∴

 

---

 

---

∴

little red circles in long red lines
beat in and out along her spine

there’s a tightness now
where absence lived
there’s a taking now
where she’d usually give

give in

give out

outlive fear

outlive doubt

no
stop
red
stop
throb
stop
pulse
·
go
strong
breathe
long
life’s
impulse

to live.
to keep on
living.

and if not in flesh
then in word and song

for all that she is
is all that belongs –
it’s more than life-long –

and it seeps into sound
like blood-let drop-lets seeded in the ground.

beat
stop
red
stop
pulse
stop

breathe

∴

 

 

---

---

∴

o Gentle Stream

do not evade me this day.

you, who smirking, gently strolls

through hidden thickets of deep woods,

you, who winking, coyly dips

under deceptively smooth horizons

of green fields,

let me come near.

 

o Gentle, unnoticed Stream,

let me walk beside you this day

for if to walk

is to walk alone

then let the cradle of your quiet current

be my guide

and my lullaby for sounder sleep.

 

and let me take drink

and let me take clean

and let me take cool

and let me take new

all the wealth that is in you,

unseen.

 

o Gentle, promising, simple Stream

may i take course with you?

may i drown in your dream?

∴

---