For You

I want to write a
nimble poem,
a shiny web of
words, without fluff or
fanfare, grounded and
drifting like the sands
of the Earth.
I want my delicate
collection to touch you,
tenderly, strum you like
harp strings; cold fingers,
a tickling chill, then the
envelope of the
warmest chord.
I want this poem to
reveal everything and
nothing about me, to
hold answers that only
unveil a crisp curiosity
that pesters
with new questions.
I want the whisper
of this poem to graze,
hot on your skin and cool
in your core.
I want this poem to
love you, ask you, hear
you. This poem
is what I crave
for you.

To (K)no(w)

Limitless love frays in threaded shreds
of hope as cooler days blink wide to light and these
humid hideouts provide only sticky space
and damp regret.

Old messages rang familiar and weathered in
heavy heartbeats, while still
I stood that softening ground, bare,
and for much time now, unobstructed.
Save me the endless chorus, the souring
tune. Those sounds insult in tones more toxic
than any solitary silence.

Weary, this leaden chest has now allowed
itself a proper burial, sunk swiftly amid
snapping bubbles and heaved by unseen currents,
assigned forever to bereft barnacles and a
silted bed; inside, left locked the loss.

To Yes

Silky melancholy echoes under dripping
notes, like accordion droplets falling
with grace and clever tragedy into
the widest, coolest barrel.

Sinking blinks dip with knees and
swaying hips, arms reaching outward,
forward, skyward for
that single, sonant grip.

Humming gently from the corner you
kept a concerned eye, half
enchanted and half perched to flee;
knowing far before she
these notes were not to be clasped:
these echoes began years before under
desperate skies; sounds meant to land now
as sighs, no longer secrets but clear, unfeigned
markings on a clean and
fertile inner landscape.

From then came the original and now
it’s prettier twin sings
her sweet responses. Twisted in piano, trumpet
and tongue, the staccato, allegro,
crescendo clues
to yes.

On Faith

Jagged ignorance peels and aged
curls of bark coil away from their
familiar anchor. From this soft green exposure, pale
to new light and disrobed by time’s guardian
it is now known that this same slivering, raw
armor fell away from you in parallel sheets, shed
in uncombed ribbons. You emerged then, cold and
conscious, armed only with the purest clarity -
not gripped by fists but instead, glowing
from each fully blossomed
palm. Nameless then was the intended
form; just as in those thundering
moments of His sacrifice, unsheathed
you stood: my first man
and last example.
That dew drop truth nourished just
one leaf which in dutiful turn
quenched its brothers. In this new season, as
yellow almonds shiver from their heights
and fuse with soil, so does this chilly awakening
breathe blustery truth through my limbs -
poised now to extend
upwards, rooted in
history and flourishing
on faith.

Have I Been Running?

Have I been running? Did I run? Were those clouds the dim denial
of sun? To what degree was that mirrored lake an exploration or great
escape? I knew well if I stayed I would never move, lodged in logic,
convinced and soothed, so
despite biting anxiety that has burned
away, I have learned a stillness, the resolve to stay. In reply to
that voice press on, press on I ask, where have my convictions gone?
Where is peace, if in my heart, to lay its head? And with
whom is she to share her bed? In outstretched arms before a gentle
nudge I want to run forever and never budge. Is this a race
with a ribboned end, or a journey over which I segment
and spread? There is an us that has never seen routine
and an unpeeled love ripe for time unseen. Will I house
life or will life house me, and through which will I shine for those
in need to see?

For G.

This pool is thick and the shadows long
from aching forms that once stood strong
In the unquenched sand, now churning dust
a face looks up, eyes wide, limbs crushed
High up, alone, in the hottest air
your mind trips up on every snare
What could be done and is not yet known
unveils slowly in a restless tone
A film of liquid, thick as clay
still mutes the sounds of what you say
Long hours ahead and pools darker still
may bruise your heart and bend your will
Yet deeper, beyond your secret scenes
you'll find a pulse beneath those seams
sewn in haste against the coldest nights;
It was here, you know
you first found sight.

You Will Not Be Alone

I'm going on a journey and
can't tell my return, but
the dangers won't
warrant
your painful concern
With sounds swirling slowly in
an inaudible tone
you will hear all these words
and you will not be alone:

Through worn, dirty
distance, to this
cavernous heart
I will see, feel and hear
you; new stories
will start

We'll come through the
miles
with our soles each worn
thin, and despite weary
limbs, beam mischievous
grins

We will touch weathered
fingers
palms wide, tip
to tip, and with my face
to yours, hold our unbreakable
grip

A warm simple
glance
and firm certain hug
will be braided in memory and
folded in time
creased and unpacked through
glasses of wine

Over tables and
pavement
in laughter we'll share
our unspoken stories, still
crisp
in the air
Tomorrow will come
and today is soon gone, but
your spirit, dear friend
is my unbroken
dawn