Saturday, May 29, 2021

I will pound on your door

 
If it’s locked when I get there
I will pound on your door
until you let me in.
I’ll scratch and scrape at the hinges
like a dog or a child
who longs for the hearth,
who longs for the breast,
who longs for home.
 
If we should meet,
unplanned, in the street,
as if our separate steps
were directed by gods
from Olympian heights,
then we’ll kiss and I’ll hold you,
and that will be enough.
 
And if I die before you
I will wait.
I will hide in the corner
of whatever room
you happen to be in,
or snug in your pocket.
And if you die before I,
I will lay myself down
and stretch myself out
on your grave.
 
I know you are strong,
the strongest I’ve known,
but even the strong grow tired.
So lie down beside me and rest a while,
for I am not strong, but I love you.
 
And if I die before you
I will wait.
I will hide in the corner
of whatever room
you happen to be in,
or snug in your pocket.
And if you die before I,
I will lay myself down
and stretch myself out
on your grave,
for I am not strong, but I love you.

Sunday, May 23, 2021

to measure time

 to measure time

by the movements of a lover

is to attain a higher level

on the journey to becoming human

to becoming whole

Sunday, May 16, 2021

DIY Angel

 With wings she stitched herself from an old par of curtains
And a halo twisted from aluminum foil
She’s my DIY angel, my self-made messenger of the divine
 
She's a bad speller but her words are right                                  
Full of wisdom and crystal-clear insight  
Wounds of the flesh that heal the heart                
Bite my ear, scratch my back, that’s a good start
 
An endless kiss that turns daytime night
Does things with her left hand that feel so right
Fire burns the lies in my eyes seeing her
A love that could be seen would to all else blind her
 
With wings she stitched herself from an old par of curtains
And a halo twisted from aluminum foil
She’s my DIY angel, my self-made messenger of the divine

Saturday, May 1, 2021

I Will Always Return Home to You

If life is a series of journeys,
station to station and port to port,
I swear to you here and now
I will always return home to you.
 
If life is one dance to the next,
with waltzes and rhumbas and tangos and reels,
I may have kicked up my heels with
this one and that one,
but yours will be
the last name on my card.
  
If each day’s a cocktail or highball or shot,
no matter which gin joint I happen to be in,
the last toast I make at closing
will always be to you.
 
If life is just the memories we save
from the moments we’ve dreamed,
then you can rest assured:
every dream I’ve dreamed has been of your kiss.