You saw me seeing you,
yet we were one at that moment,
with nothing to see
except the gentle throb
of a quickening pulse
that we both shared.

It is only now
that I can recall
the searing heat.

And it is only now
that my aloneness
seems so very oppressive.

Can we go back to that
millisecond
when we did not know
where you began
and I ended.

I am so happy for you that you are comfortable enough to reach out to people now. What has happened that has transformed you? Was it a cathartic event? Was it an evolution? A planned process? Or was it the intelligence gained from a life well led?

I keep waiting to be able to come out from my cacoon. I often hope there will be an obvious sign, a burning bush, a revolutionary moment where I no longer have choice in the matter… but for now this seems an unaffordable luxury steeped in taxes that I can never pay. And when I do venture out, I come away drained and feeling even more isolated. Perhaps it is my inability to really feel the connection.

The practicality that you suggest leads me to believe that your way of looking at the same thing has changed over time, that risk is no longer risk… I can tell that you are a center, that it is in you to be surrounded, as if the energy you bring radiates outward and allows others to lead life more fully. I feel this as if it were a loaf of brad in front of me.

The only thing that I can recognize is the purity of your sweet and gentle response which has given me hope, even if just for the moment. I thank you with all my heart and pray beyond prayer that moments like these can be strung together.

With love and gratitude for your kindness.

The moth hovers
near a flickering candle
just one more time,
while the butterfly dances
in fields of tulips
serenaded by the summer wind.

And this cocoon,
this cacophony,
that is the din
we call our den,
is that what it is about
when we will fly no more?

So do butterflies dream
of sunflowers and blue skies,
while moths live in fear
of the burning flame
like Icarus flying
too close to the sun.

Too bad I will have
no answers
until that last final second,
when it will be too late to know
all the things that I need
for this journey we are on.

But maybe you can show me
just this once
what it is like to be god...

if you would have me
i would turn the earth upside down
and make the rivers flow upstream.
and the fish would be confused
but we both like sushi anyway...

if you would have me
goldfish would rule the planet and
we would all eat ice cream for breakfast.

and the stars would line up and spell your name,
while the east winds would go west for just one day.

and the sun and sky would trade colors for your birthday.

And when the clouds came,
they would rain down Hershey Kisses to all who cared.

if i could have you
this mess inside my head that throbs and weaves
would go away
and heaven on earth would be wasted
just this once for you...

legs dangling splayed wide and ready
with your small soft pink tongue longing for action,
as you want to be devoured by love and lust
and not just lash out at sex and boys.

And once when you were a girl
something happened that changed your life forever
but you don't speak about it now,
except to visit it when you least expect it
in sweaty early morning dreams
with your cotton nightie sticking
to your liquid sweet skin.
And I want to lick you.
To taste you like this.
Raw and animal like and
allow my inside to take over what's left.

So you strive to be different
even though you just want to scream out
to be noticed
by just that one man
who will make you feel
like that first roller coaster ride
where you clung to that restraining bar
afraid to look up.
Remembering how you cried when the ride stopped
and you didn't want to leave that seat,
but they wouldn't let you stay.

So feminine and so unlike the brutish bull,

Carrying so many faces of elegance
like a cubist painting seen from every angle,
like a noble preparing for the masked ball,
But yet your every day
'let's get dirty' girl face shines the most.
You know the one,
with the ear to ear grin and glowing eyes
that took all the stars from the evening sky…
yeah that one…

You walk to me like a ballerina en pointe,
with the natural elegance
of a deer frozen
in a delicious millisecond
in late night car headlights
on some far off country road,

And you are sweet
like a cherry bonnet dipped vanilla ice cream cone
That quickly melts
if you do not give it your undivided attention.

So my lady, with the pains in her upper back,
from her angel wings sprouting through human skin,
steel thy heart
and do not let them pierce that soft veneer
that quivers anytime romance is near.

Remember to give one more look
in that undiscovered corner
because he grows sweeter
(and more bold)
all the time.

And remember to not be fooled
by reflections of rainbows
when you can have the real thing.

(this is for Storm)

Where are the words
For me to say
what has never been said before?
Where do I search
for a thank you
that gives meaning enough,
to the true nature of love,
like that time you stayed up all night
after my accident just to watch me.

Where is the music
that will rock me to sleep
like the sound of your voice
singing to me,
cradling my soul,
and delivering me
gently
into the land of sweet dreams.

Where is the justice
of another day gone
without your kind touch?

I search everywhere,
but there is only one place
that I can call home,
and that is
in your arms.

I know this confusion
as if it were my own,
this searching
from town to town
and time to time,
as if no place
were my own.

And I am often found
when I am most lost.

Remember when I wandered
through cloudless desert
like motherless child
looking for the mirage
that mirrored my dreams
when no thirst could quench
the never-ending drought.

You found me then
and took me in
with heart and soul
when it was everything I needed.

So, when you need me most,
just close your eyes
and go to that special place
that just we two know about...
for I am there.

Always there.

And for you,
it will be
as if I had never left.

I am so lost right now
I just can’t seem
to find my way back home
to anything that seems familiar.

Does a blindman remember the sun
or just the heat on his face?

I imagine that
we could make love like molasses:
so sweet and so slow
that our hearts would melt together
so that we would not know
just where you left off
and where I began.

And now you offer your heart,
if I am man enough to take it,
but I am not brave enough
to pursue your love
even though it is the purest
and most beautiful thing
I have ever felt.

This pain in my chest tells me
that there are younger men,
stronger men,
better men
than I.

I knew a time once
when I would move heaven
and earth
for you.
And no fire or hurricane
would dare stop me.
There was a time
when I would have taken
your heart
to heights you would never
dared have imagined.

But there is no
sunlight in my world now,
I am dying in my world,
drowning in my own fear.

I have no fight left.
She took it all
along with the Persian rugs
and that antique carved wooden chair
that was my great Aunt Beth's.
I was left with the scars
and this ever present weight
that holds me down.

And I am reminded
of those old beggars
in tattered clothing,
clutching brown paper bags
like a bible
because it held
their wine.
I would see them
on Houston Street
when I was a kid
and always wondered
just how did it come to that.

And now I know.

Sometimes, late at night,
alone in the living room,
I watch the flickering light
from a single candle
as it burns down,
expending so much energy
in its’ struggle
to shed some light
before it dies.

And just before the darkness
I reflect once again
on the flaring light
that grows brightest
just before it burns out.
I wonder what that means
about this life we lead.

She escapes me again
as I squint my eyes,
and gaze out,
trying to recall
the lines of her face
that just won’t reassemble themselves
into the image that I once knew.
Her features blur
and recede into whiteness
like the lost balloons
at the carnival
when I was a child.
It is different now,
but somehow
the tears taste the same.

So, I sit and listen
closely to the stillness
for the sound of her voice,
just this once more,
until a late night door slams
shattering the silence,
breaking my blue toned reverie
and beginning the reality
that I am alone
in this room,
in the dark.

All I have of you now
is this crumpled black & white
from that day at the fair.

I can still feel
the sticky pink cotton candy mustaches
that you made for me.

I can see you
running past the ticket booth
to buy those red helium balloons
just so you could set them free
into an endless blue sky.
And while I stood there transfixed,
with my eyes following their flight,
you raced ahead to the next ride
shouting my name over your left shoulder.

This pic was one of many:
I snapped it on the boardwalk,
right after the Zipper ride
that almost made me lose my lunch and my focus.

The blurriness of it all
did not diminish
how happy and exhilarated you were.
Your cheeks had the crimson look of a bruise.
Your hat flew off just after that pic was taken.
And you raced off down the boardwalk
to save it from pelicans
and hotdog vendors and such...

Remember?

And years later,
you remain
the last thing i look at every night
and the first thing
i wake up to every morning.

i cried today
reading your journal entries
and wanting to help you
sort through this life,
like putting together a jigsaw puzzle.
But I know that there are some things
that you just have to do on your own
if they are to ever have any real value to you.

So I stand here
so close
that i can
feel your goose-bumps...

and my heart whispers
be brave,
I will catch you if you fall.

There is another road we can take
if we are not looking
at where we came from
or trying to answer those questions
that were not asked.

So how can we forget
the vehicles and super highway
that delivered us here?
How can we be sentient
as fresh snow,
like chocolate-dipped
white ice cream coned souls
without teeth marks and soot
making slippery our path?

And how did we get here
if the sum of the parts
is more than we can ever count?

Why are men so rigid
and fixed in time, logic and direction
with their pathos and greed
strung from their spent dicks,
while woman
are so momentarily uncertain and directionless
in the waiting room of biological imperative,
feigning career
and fending off dance partners
trying to figure out who they are?

So, we dance alone,
and together
holding onto our father's sins
more than we care to know.
And we try to escape
by walking in circles
till the circles just don't work anymore.

But if we a re lucky,
a light goes off,
a revelation, or perhaps a stroke
that paralyzes the brain
and freezes the past from
shedding black light on our future
while the old patterns melt
when we make new tracks in the snow...

Some days I can forget.
Some days,
when no one knows,
because they cannot see
through the shallow crust
of apple pie dreams,
I come out to say hello

Some days
the answering machine
greets my life
with false brevity.
With sapped strength,
I can feel
distant voices speaking
in tongues,
dropping names
to the faces
that I once knew.
They beckon me
to some undefined action
like late night tv commercials.

Tonight, once again,
I pull up the draw bridge
with vague understanding
that this moat
that keeps me in,
does not protect me
from what I do not know.

Tonight, the lead weight
that usually ebbs and flows
like the tides,
pulls me down
into a sea of tears,
and I drown.

Some days
I long to be done with it.
To go away
and never come back.
Couldn't I go
to a lighter place than this?
Somewhere we would float above
the struggling sea of humanity,
trying so hard not to drown
before they get to the light.

Maybe tonight...