Drowned into the Shallows

You have drowned me into the shallows -
and the ironies aren't bait to my mind -
I'm lost to thoughts but never out of love;
I poem it all and burn only Time.

That I loved you is what consolation?
That you know it does not have me secure.
Yet there is truly nothing better than
living by the death that you've brought me.

More of the illusions, I ask, do I
need a fiercer knife? Or a lighter...
to rekindle me, a cigarette
you had smoked but one full winter!

Living by the death that you’ve brought me...
That you know it does not have me secure.

A Bad, Really Sad Poem

I knew that I had lost. And I was glad.
Until you told me it was a game;
and I learned that you I'd never had.

Which one is the greater loss, my love -
to have lost my breath to your loving sight,
or to know that you were never 'the sight'?

And I still hope that you sleep in peace,
while I tame my fading breath into life -
may you never know what it is:

fighting life.

Six and Seven

Want, I do. Wait, I will.
Can't you hold me until

until I learn more of you;
until I want to my fill -

fill I must, this dream of you -
fill with wait; fill with will -

can't you hold me until
I learn to wait and to will?

To What We Were

Long ago, our shoes came cheap -
the air was free,
and so were our feet.

You and I, and a long, dusty road -
the wind in my hair,
the world on your glasses...

My poems and the untamed grass.

The slowness of that winter
that fled so fast!

And your photos,
that now
take me back

take me back -

take me back ...

Let Us Autumn

Let us autumn -
shapely ripples, you and I -
let us pour upon our dreams
a callous tenderness -
life to our feet,
this deadness of leaves -
let us unearth sounds
that could mean poetry?

A wildfire, aren't we
a million untouched logs of gold -
wither, let us woe -
slip like streams, tow
our defined running into
life!

Autumn, let us,
into the nude mirrors,
hurt the starkness
with our seething blurs
of gold.

Winter Exists

Winter exists, a mole
upon your beauty -
you, who are slipped upon
by sensuality
are the soul
of a naive poem -

they want you here,
they need you there -
faith handed out
as your unsmiling limbs
attempt to rhyme.

And the world dares
to impede the mole;
obliterate it.

Chime to the time,
when you,
give yourself away to the dance -
let the mole
travel within you.

Beyond My Pounding Heart

A sepia cloud, a shapeless sound -
beyond my pounding heart
is the loud 
life of love.

I dare not open the scroll,
this length that unfolds my impotence -
I continue to perceive shivers
from the beyond that is love.
My arms inundate a chest –
A cold melody like the moon,
I attempt a spread beyond you.
Why am I still not enough?

...beyond my pounding heart
is the loud life of love.