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

Tuesday
Jul042006

judgments of others

Oh fuck !, was what you said, walking slightly ahead,

your stride so like Dylan’s, your dark glasses on and that

mass of dark waves, uncontrollable. Some have

slung mud before but never so rough, so hateful

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Tuesday
Jul042006

the peale

I waited all day, wondering where I stood with you.

Walked the marble hallways, I listened to the tap-tap of my shoes,

surprised when my own tap met yours. How we lose ourselves in dances!

I expected your move closer. For you to take me formally in your arms.

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Tuesday
Jul042006

one more weekend

One More Weekend

You took me there.

Me, nervous as a lily in the spring

I peered about seeking what?

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Tuesday
Jul042006

the mathematics of love

Draw it out. Pick up your philosophy stick and use it

draw in the sand. Draw for me a circle and tell me –

so measure each corner – an impossibility you say.

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Tuesday
Jul042006

echolocation

I come and I go. Dance in and out of your life,
a bee on pollen quest, I stay long enough
only to fill my sacks with powdered flower
my dances of location, airborne incomprehensible to you

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Tuesday
Jul042006

lent, love

Why do you disappear then reappear?
I have a photograph, you smiling, laughing perhaps.
You appear in shades of grey, just like life.
Nothing, love, is black or white,

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Tuesday
Jul042006

such places

The cards read someone had tried to come between us.

Your thoughts about me too much for piece of mind.

All along suspected, known?

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Tuesday
Jul042006

love letter on parting

Love, my world is barren without you,

and although we part just today

I am blue and dark as the Mystic

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Tuesday
Jul042006

being amish, part 1

I always wanted to be Amish.

To wear the black with the blue.

To over-clean the wood with Murphy’s oil-soap;

a house that shone bright and a white chin-tie cap

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Sunday
Jun252006

pan american center

It is you alright.

Trademark chestnut waves.

Cigarette dangling loosely from lower lip,

the smoke obscuring the face of a nearby journalist

while you meanwhile, oblivious, carry on a conversation and in French

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Friday
Jun232006

an abundance of freckles

Why do you call me your tarte au mielle?

And you, all you could do was smile, break-cheeked and broad.

You tell me it is because you love to watch me eat them

(a line I am certain you've copped from somewhere…

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Friday
Jun232006

Dear... letter unsent

Dear,

I’ve been meaning to tell you how much it means that when I ask you to do it, make love to me, that you do so and without any hesitation. That you ask “quick or slow” as if serving up the dish that is you. That you are a soldier at the ready, a man without inhibitions whose wavy hair I can take hold of and who still surprises me such things of which here I cannot say

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Tuesday
Jun202006

the outs

How boring of you to become suddenly so dull.

A tree that offers no shade only bright sunlight –

no summer respite for this humid, damp skin.

Why you won’t even play hand-slap or staring games.

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Tuesday
Jun132006

editing

Here, everything is in black and white.

Serif e’s and a’s, real f’s with ligatures…

Why my language can be elegant, eloquent.

My meaning hidden in a sea of quick characters,

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Monday
Jun122006

ways of telling

How do I tell you I love you.

Something so simple, yet so complicated.

How do I explain how very much, when so little is understood.

How to begin to say where it began?

One early spring day, perhaps, perhaps –

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Monday
Jun122006

being amish, part two

I could do this. Or that.

I could.

I would be happy taking stand-up sponge baths with water

that reaches to my ankles and all in a porcelain tub by the light of a single

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Saturday
Jun032006

brevity

It is too brief. All of it.

Even now. Even as you read, as I write, as we draw near, apart,

I have this sweet memory of you. Wind-chapped and pinked.

Just in from the cold.

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Saturday
Jun032006

5/8ths of you

I would take 5/8ths of you.

They tell me this is always the answer to the equation.

But 5/8ths, just this I would take it.

5/8ths of your need.

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Saturday
Jun032006

making up

We make tea to make up. Chamomile or ordinary.

It does not matter, so long as the making is honey-sweetened.

An argument, a booming, an ever-so loud silence:

Why I can hardly think, or sleep a think.

It is only your reach-out or mine that does that trick.

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Friday
Jun022006

sublime abandon

What else could it be to kiss you but sublime?

What else can I expect but to abandon all reason –

to quit that motor that has kept me steady & for so long.

How silly it all seemed in that moment.

Don’t we know by now?

Click to read more ...

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