Archives for the month of: November, 2009

you tell me

Perhaps it’s some kind of madness.
A vortex of swirling mania, perched solidly on the edge of despair.
New love always has a kind of breathless fear attached to it—a sleeplessness
derived solely from the courage it takes to stand naked
before another soul with your heart in your hand
and offer up what you cannot hold back a minute longer.


hallowed II

I am searching for the poem
that tells of my love for you
The turn of phrase that translates all this
heavy, lumpy want into a perfectly sculpted mound of clay between your fingertips
Where are the words that elucidate my meaning
and offer it to you on pages of sepia patience
as the scent of moonlight daffodils waft by

feeling frightened

There is an element to your love
Some kind of flint
Striking against the hard
perception of the world
It lights me up
Dares me
Standing naked and ancient before you
to remember what I came for


I awoke with your name
yearning between
my once-restless legs
A surge, pulsing,
Wanting me to want
you Tasting your distance
Calling for you
These lips suffused with desire

my messy bedroom

The sheets are cold
The pillows mock me
with their softness
The bed is vast and vacuous
Without you

where you stand
An entire life dedicated
to a makeshift heart
to holding the idea of this love still.
And hold, it did, through storms of fallen debris
from the mighty gods of wind and wrath above,
through long, cold winters of barren fields
and cynics, through the incorrigible heat
of summers run wild; lustful and lost.
When, one day, the image of Hope Remembered arrives
on a city block corner at seven p.m.
and the all of everything becomes manifest,
Red threads that tie you to me
in just one look.
It was a Wednesday.