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

Friday
Jun022006

sabbath sundays

Do you remember how … then…

Your hand in mine, the old brick church.

Rituals performed. Secrets told. Sung the litany,

call the liturgy and waited for the great thurible to swing.

Each of us kneeling, holding hands in the pew,

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Sunday
May212006

eternities mansions

You're not even that nice. But you do put up with me,

and I do realize what a pest I can be, and although

we have this great, great estate in and on which to play

(and we do… how we do…) I need tell you and quite simply,

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Saturday
May202006

extended release

If you were a drug, you would be short-acting.

Always I want more. Right after… right after….

I need you again, and you laugh and tell me how this time

Surely I will kill you

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Saturday
May202006

history lesson, part one

There were three in that orchard.
Three goddesses and an apple thrown by Eris.
Three of the most beautiful and you, Hermes on the outside looking in.
Wanting and waiting for only Aphrodite
She you wanted to travel in your Caleche and she did
You offered up hermeneutics; tried hard to decipher her meaning

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Saturday
May202006

tabula rasa

The page was blank where I had expected and S.O.S.
A real tabula rasa, white as linen, with no beginning no end,
no history to keep us anchored to the past.
Is there not something then freeing about the utter blankness of the page?
I admit, at first your S.OS. arrived so desperately;

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Saturday
May202006

unsent letter, no. 1, gerwurtstraminer

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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Saturday
May202006

all these years

All I have to say to say is do it  and you do.
You speak to me of times when perhaps this won’t be possible;
perhaps we will grow old and then… then we will be sorry
So we live in the moment; insatiable.

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Tuesday
May092006

quick again

Quick again – the partita is not over. Again, play it again.

 

She is quick on the say so. Fast she tells him what she wants.

 

How she wants and wants and wants. See now how he gives and gives and gives.

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Monday
Apr242006

tarte au miel

Without you to guide me,

How then to take the slip of communion between my lips:

How then to know what is right, what is wrong

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Monday
Apr242006

"x" or (a + b = c)

I thought I understood. That the elements were in place.

That the usual signs meant the usual things, so how was I to know that

this time the signs were topsy turvy? That when all road signs pointed

toward a sure and certain love, but that you had gone off (again)

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Monday
Apr242006

caught

I am utterly not sorry.

That is, I remain fiendishly unapologetic.

The family wants some sign, some dark-ringed eyes

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Saturday
Apr222006

in the thick of it, it all comes down to this

In the thick of it, you leave me stranded.

 

Missives sent, unsent, no reply forthcoming.

 

Have I driven you away with such eagerness?

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Saturday
Apr222006

parnassus \ roman profile

How many times have I photographed your profile now?

Roman: Your aquiline nose, the slight hook near the tip, the way it

meets the bow of your lip – pouted and bee-stung

I must have at least a hundred photographs of you like this ~

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Monday
Apr172006

count it out

Count it out. Do the math. Do it right.

Do not assume, presume to know how I sleep in the night.

Each apple-blossom tree reminds me, smooth-limbed, so right ~

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Tuesday
Apr112006

cadence

It is just a question of time before…

our cadence will meet as we walk fall into sync,

to pentameter, iambic (of course), before we

share the same scented tea from same pot (same kind)

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Tuesday
Apr112006

reassurance

Not once, but twice. I am okay.

Some quick reassurance, not too quick.

Where does it hit: in which register does it fall?

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Tuesday
Apr112006

oh!

Oh,

Don’t blow raspberries at me know and tell me No, non.

Don’t speak of me of stuffy noses of nos and nos and petulance.

How tiring such things get. When did you become such a such a bore!

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Tuesday
Apr112006

unapologetic

I am utterly not sorry.

That is, I remain fiendishly unapologetic.

The family wants some sign, some dark-ringed eyes

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Thursday
Mar302006

smitten not bitten

She said "It's 'smitten', not 'bitten'!

At which point he leaned in and bit her neck

Thus proving that both, of course, could be true,

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Tuesday
Mar282006

let us

Let us argue Yeats or Keats but never us.

Let's dance, two moths about a flame, like mother said, but let us dance.

Let us shake off dust and silt of family secrets

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