love, like life, can be so painful at times that it twists and turns and we yearn. it confuses and bends and stretches. it comes unexpected, it leaves if neglected, sometimes not. sometimes it thrives regardless, like the weed (which is just another name for a flower that some would say is 'unwanted'.) But whether we want to love or not, or to be in-love, we are stuck with it regardless and there is no getting around it. One can be like Penelope from the Odyssey, waiting for her lover hanging on to only hope where perhaps there is no sign of it for as long as twenty  - an endless tableaux and a folly to a love that is perhaps impossible - or not. Who can say. What i do know for sure is that where there is love there will be happiness, there will be joy, and there will be grief.

late march, 9.42 a.m., 2008


two | winter thaw

Always there must be two.
Always two on one stem, budded rose
my hip, little dipper, bending to pick
a constellation of yet unopened treasures
these pre-bloom gifts for you

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two | moonlit sombreros

It is waxing, not waning
the almost full strawberry moon - june
it fills drop by mercurial drop as i grow daily closer
I can feel the moonlit-hit of it.
In that moment everything changed and I knew
I am drawn to your southern border c

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two | ocean close | the broadstrokes

I keep to the broadstrokes.
The outline of the map now places me parallel to the Atlantic,
That mutable palate of blue gray green that connects my here to there.
By now my youth, my country, my rough chanel – my Europe.
I see that tide every day
Witness sky meeting sea on the horizon – a lover’s kiss.

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the double bind

I did I did not want just to see just once if I could
take in the taste of some other
shared forbidden fruit, honey Gideon.
I slaked my thirst with his pomegranate; drank of him freely
Thought of those dried pomegranates that hem the cassocks

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Song for a Backward Lover

You - my backward lover

walking upside down on the ceiling

unafraid of the next movement

never fearing the absurd that lies between us

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Sip Titana | two words (slip of the tongue)

How fast you spin that silk web

cocooning fast your solitude -

xylophanes titana , my dark butterfly

spinning, spinning, spinning,

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glass antlers | two words (glass antler you)

Glass antlers you, so carefully we nuzzle,


tonight, today, I am missing you

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throbbing dragonfly | two words (southward)

Would you move me gentle, smooth?

Row us down the river past the lush-rush grassy banks

down the serpentine jewel, a floor of green that sparkles emerald in the sun.

Just we in the summer-thick in a polished, wooden rowboat.

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caressing words | two words

If – and when we dip we two for two,

that is, two words from where we begin:

Always I shall see always see this through the end.

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quince concurrence | two words (jamais plus)

If I told you jamais plus, would you believe me?

nevermore, nevermore, nevermore

I wish I could or would just once mean it.

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apricot etiquette; a proof | two words

I at midnight by the clock may creep into your bed , Yeats.


How slippery then these words:

Apricot - Etiquette

Apricot, abricot, mon abricot,

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moss-green eyes | two words

These moss-green eyes will always find a way

to take you in, take you in, take, you in.

Behind such dark, owl-like lenses I hide, never from you though: a façade falls heavy.

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3:30 a.m. | sweet

Such exacting words:

One exchange on a grey bittersweet day, things we.

Love comes at inconvenient times.

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first kiss, south end

I always wondered when and where that first kiss would be:

Of course, I knew it would be you; you knew it too.

It came, unexpected, almost unwanted, on the beach at Southend ~

Wendy & Martin playing in the sand while I stood near the opening of the caves.

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dream no. 5 | Israel - Homecoming

It was after that dream that it happened.

That dream of Israel and us –

you chased me around the chalky, high-walled alleys.

I heard the slip of your foot as it slid in its sandal

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sooner or later - iconography

Are you not bored of the chase?

Love, I have grown weary of this fond chase, he writes.

Yes, weary, and yet I-you? would chase, chase, hide-seek,

hide-hide, seek-seek -

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before the now

Before, there would have been nothing wrong with it.

you would have simply laughed and kissed that morning on the porch

and said, Quelle Reve or some such, Such dreams, cousin!

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as you watch

God, I am so tired of writing you, of wanting you.

It is boring even to me.

I am weary of the way you stitch in and out of my dreams,

wending your way down the chalked alleys of Israel, always that step ahead,

always calling my name, some game in which I am to pursue

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i don't, i won't , in a snap you go....

Errands run, car hum, I am yours

only not there to show it.

Does my silence frighten you

as much as yours frightens me?

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eye darker1.jpg 

God, those first frantic kisses.

Some veil at last lifted and we were as we wanted.

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