WITHOUT PROVISIONS

Obsessed with love
From opposite poles
You with your redemption of revenge
Running from tri-pronged words
Lovers in your wake,
Leaping into the arms of Brave New Girl,
My own lust for love’s Medusian forms
Disparate, but quite desperate
For any slight permutation
To the point of self-hypnosis
Confusion of what is
And what will never be.
Two delusionists procrastinating their way
Through long, lonely patches
Of sloth-like self-immolation and deception
Missing boats, points, shivering seminal connections
Hanging from the rafters around us
Hungry for a little heartbeat
And slipping past us on the wings
Of my indecision
And your books of rules.

So you seek
Those beneath you
Those you can save
Those you can ache to understand
Hoping
In the race to walk away
That the very thing which attracts you
Will make them easier to leave.
The big boned, the old daddies,
The misfit, artistic, needy and dysfunctional
Who contribute
To your own self-worth
Add texture and drama and inspiration and obstacle
To your daily grind
Some sense of being needed
Some sense of being flawed enough
To allow you to shine.

I seek the illusive beauty
The perfect smile
Round, young ass of a teen
On a full-grown, genius guruette
Someone I can worship
Bend over.
Walking dictionary goddesses
Wanting nothing more than to live their lives to fill my head
My bed
My waking moments with discovery
Sinful fire-breathing naughtiness
Accepting my genuflection
With my dominant stare,
Physical largess matching
Serve for serve
My passionate heart
My servitude
And enveloping embrace
With my self-flagellating doubt.
Iron filaments gather around me
Pulled with me toward the magnetic sphere
Of those not ready
To trust their own ability to love,
Pulled t’ward those damaged by
Fathers, boyfriends
Con men and hypocrites
All unable to hold tightly to their responsibilities
Express their love for anything but their own myopic screeds
Or those who take the first train out of Daddyville
By choice or fate
Leaving their sad, little girls to wonder why
Sitting on steps each night
Waiting for his big hands to sweep them up;
Impaled on the bitterness of cheating lovers
Harsh and ignorant men
Their own spiritless souls seeking
More than is willing to be given
Brothers gone on with life
Boyfriends greedy with lust
Girlfriends neck deep in temptation
Misunderstanding
Insecurity and
All of those mismatched,
Mistakes
Discarded moments
Miscalculated
Maligned
Possibilities
Tossed into the flames
Fear
Laziness
The drive for the perfect
Beast
Love’s precarious reputation
Holding the match.

And there we sit
Needing and wanting
What we cannot accept
What we will not fully give--
Everything.
There are those of us
Who cannot handle the torturous
Self-exposure
Seeking the restitution of revenge
Conscious and unconscious gaming
Positioning
Manipulations
The outward blaming
Replacing the outpouring of love’s unbridled
Flow
And all of us ego-driven
To the brink of self-delusion.

So the thoughtful of us
Hunker down in our solitude
Rolling a fatty
A phalanx of equations, probabilities, deceptions and epiphanies
Around in our heads
Before we touch a match to it
Inhaling its smokescreen with hope
A candy drop you cannot resist biting into too soon.
We fail to be godlike
Use timing as our alibi
Being misunderstood as our cloak
Our cover.
We stand alone
Surrounded by God’s love
The universal bliss of our very existence as proof
Ignored in the cannonball leap
Looking for that big splash
Courting the deep end.
Just not damn sure.
Just wanting more.
Just needing
Our arms
Around the elusive
One
Forever
Loved.

~ for Molly, 1/4/09 Big Bear City
also collected in MOLVESTED.doc
also collected in POETICS 2008/2009.doc
also published at FMBS.C

FLIPPING THE HOURGLASS

Once I wrote,

‘Soul mates are a dime a dozen’

She thought I was being cute.

Now, I wait with 47 cents

On the table in front of me

Alone

The phone

Staring a hole in my discontent.

Three hundred pages

Of correspondence later

Pointed texts, endless letters,

Ribald transcriptions of phone sex

Chats

Exposure

Healing

Laughter

Angst

Learning

Shared perspective

Mystic longing

Gathering dust motes

Embellishing

The memory of

Yearning

With unneeded questions

The currency of unrequited

Co-existence.

Someday

Our story will be told

For now

I cling to it

With the fingers

Of a madman

Clawing at it’s radiant

Fuzziness

Desperate

For the sand

To not slip my grasp.

~ for Cami, August 1, 2011 - Big Bear City, 2 a.m.

MORE EARLY PUBLISHED POEMS

SPIGOT (early version)

I.

stranger
nemesis to himself
foisting drill-press limitation
hard-edged
guilt by disassociation
fire line discombobulation
on one's own psyche.

not particularly healthy
non-controllable, weird osmotic
chemical reaction to heart's conundrums
not conducive to positive growth potential.
fuck the diagnosis
race for the cure.

II.

deserted.
non-malicious bailing out
those who've had enough
or search a different window.

there has not been a day
without tears
(waterfall;
glacial trickle > ocean roar
record setting, soaking pearls
of rejected anger, mists of acceptance
beauty's reflected appreciation
longing's widening, leaking fissure)
raining for 49 humid days
dark, ebony nights .
after 15 years of drought,
thirsting for tear's acknowledgment
of some dab of emotion left floating inside,
the parched earth
rock solid
impenetrable
like my stupidity
my rigorous, inflexible blinders
the spidery flawed face of the self-loathing mirror
turned shamefully to the wall.
Barely a smidgen of moisture crept through.
But what did seeped into the cracked weaknesses
of my hardened self-hatred
created rivulets of hope
positive flow


(beneath the surface
waterways tinged of reminiscence
just navigable
in the eerie inner darkness
the memory of passionate language of thought
floating
downstream
toward that light)

III.

my face
flushes briefly with the warmth...
stopping breath
time
memory
flow
only to slip further away
always, inexplicably out of her grasp
always mysteriously in reach
waiting
always for that warm glimmer
upon my saddened brow.

always
the light
she silently calls out
whispering my given name
singing the word "beautiful"
softly on my every breath.

always
a darker reality
than the soul can bear.

IV.

time cradles light like a fragile child
sneering menacingly at the baby's face
calling it's hand.
full of love, sustenance and compassion
the light's radiant smile
briefly tickles time's chin
only to dim
in it's powerful stare.


-- 6/23/96 as it appeared in print. This version appeared in the poetry zine
A Hindu, A Buddhist & A Lion Tamer, #2, Folcroft, PA. 1996
Credited to “Victor Bradley”. A later edited version appeared in GLIMMERING RAY DUET collection (see blog posted here on June 30, 2008)

AFTER SEVEN DAYS OF ORBITING YOU

i.

You and your fragile, broken heart
Call me
A beacon in my endless night.
One fleeting glance
Caught me unaware
Cemented my devotion
Catalyst for my silly yearning
Heartfelt seriousness
Immense care.

The endless boots
Compelling stockings
Classy style and stylish cap
Launch a million dreams
That no small feat of mesmerizing foolishness
Can fulfill.
To find me in your sphere
An odd
Complex
And silly joke
I would not trade for all the green tea in China.
That you would ever find something in me
Worthy of your delicious
Germanic upper lip,
Cascading hair
Luminous in the light of another barroom
The easy grace and subtle humor of your hips
Your waist
Your gentle hands on my arm
And
Again those eyes
Which disarm me of any "game"
Every time they smile into mine
-- a mystery no soothsayer
Can decipher.
Just blessed
I guess
I
am
Indeed.

ii.

One
Fleeting
Glance
As I locked into those eyes
As you walked purposefully
Down
The aisle towards your seat --
End of intermission
Start of a new chapter.

It had been decades
Since a lightning bolt
Caught me
Dead center.
Eons since this age old
Heart of mine
Screamed so loudly out at me,
“Pay attention YOU!!!
Do not take one more step
Without really seeing
The blessing before you.”

How can I be so bold as to want so much so quickly
To presume so much connection
From such a fragile heart
When my own has been so empty for so long?
Just when I thought life was just a trick of the light
Done with mirrors
Fun house deception
Gone batty
In the dead of night,
Just when I thought I'd filled the hole
With myriad sweet sensations
Songs of bliss
Keys of life
Women of loving tenderness
And fiery surprise...

...here you are
Showing me signs of redemption
When all you see from your end is pain.
If you only knew what you have given me
That your breath be mine
my nightly wish
That our eyes stay focused
Every minute, my prayer...
That I am not a fool
And don’t presume your resonant youth
Divine presence
And ravenous beauty could be anything
I’d be worthy of.
But, a man can dream,
My how this man can do nothing but.

iii.

So I keep my distance
Respecting your pain
While wanting nothing but to cure you
Enticing your time away from all comers
Wanting only to enchant you
Wishing I could be just the very thing that you need
In just this one moment
And
Then
Again
In the next.

iv.

And what is
Is
And what will be
Will be.
I can do nothing more
Than wish I could break through
The armor
Of distraction
Of iPhones
Ex-lovers
And timelines
Preconceptions
Of cockblockers
And last calls
To just tell you
Thanks
For making
This one man
Feel
At least
While locked in your gaze
One
Glimmer more
Important
And sexy
And worthy
For at least this very
Short
And beautiful
Moment in time.

-- January 15, 2010 - spontaneous heart writing, 3:54am

OVER MY SHOULDER

Over my shoulder
Is the man you long for
Over my shoulder
Is the one you love
Over my shoulder
Is the life of the party
Over my shoulder
When push comes to shove

Over my shoulder
Is one who ignores you
Over my shoulder
Is my longtime friend
Over my shoulder
Is someone you long for
Over my shoulder
Will it ever end?

Right here before me
I’m so quickly learning
Right here before me
That I can’t resist
Right her before me
I’m so deeply yearning
Right here before me
I so want to kiss

Right here before you
Is someone who sees you
Right here before you
As you really are
Right here before you
Is someone who needs you
Right here before you
like a shining star

But over my shoulder
Are your eyes still gazing
Over my shoulder
If you only knew
Over my shoulder
Now my eyes are glazing
This invisible man
Waiting just for you.

- for SNS, spontaneous song lyric, in bed at 4:12am on 1/15/10

WHY SO SHY BOY?

You like the way things are going.

“The future is uncertain.”

You want to keep things the way they are

…for now.

Ah, the ever-indecipherable “Now”.

Puts a careful man on his heels

Tilting to one side

Bowing respectfully

Towards

Inaction.

Hmm, how I love the uncertainty

The never knowing.

Yes, it holds my interest

Tickles my funny bone

Perplexes my reason.

Disrupts my sleep.

I dreamt of you for the first time

We kissed long and softly

In my former kitchen

You teased me some

Kissed me again

And turned

Gracefully

Out the door

Making me

Want more.

I hear your need for unfolding

Not rushing

No rules

No expectations

No strings.

I’m not sure if you see that

That is exactly my proposal

Entwined with only the expectation of something new

Courting the exciting

Not waiting for it to fall into our proverbial laps

But opening our laps to it

One might say with a smile.

In the realm of the patient

Things make their own way

In spite of all the planning

The need to control the situation

Languid pace

Cool exterior

Burning

Yearning interior

All seems threatened by the unknown.

But the heart

Still craves

Surprise

New romance

Dark nights

Roses with thorns

Men

Brimming with poetry

Your name

On their lips.

And if my mien in life

Is to cling to respecting these new moments

My head in your sway

In lieu of dangerously

Burning time’s fragile edge

With

My anticipation

My antsy desire

To climb into your skin and know you

From within

Discover your boundaries

Feed your fires

Stir your pot

Dine

Dance

Decorate your delicate countenance

With the exuberance of experience

Yearning

And refreshed spirit

Lie warm in your youthful gaze

Explore

Explore

Places we have never been

Nooks and crannies

Of life’s perpetual change

Flowing through our souls

Our brief shared moments in time.

To miss this resonance

For lack of trying

Would be a horrid sin.

To hold these moments

Tight and cozy

Against our memory

A blessing,

Not fearful

Of whatever

Comes around the next bend.

Yet no gigolo, I.

It is not the climax that I crave

The view from the top not withstanding

Carnality's afterglow but a sweet by-product

Of a deeper attraction

A languorous understanding

An adventurous

Redistribution of affection’s

Soft hand

I seek the eye's confirmation

The touch of a fingertip's affirmation

The spark of a laugh's soft agreement.

I want my arm around the waist of your comfort

Hold your trust and friendship

Close to me like a sacred oath

A pledge of allegiance

To each moment's unique bliss

Nothing more

Such moments to become

What memory may allow.

Ah, the ultimate freedom

Of not falling for time’s

Playful tortures.

And me? Still I make no moves

No leaping stumbles toward your lips

No stubbled cheek upon your breast

No reaching for your long fingers.

Even spinning you close

Around our frequented dance floors…

Why so shy, boy?

When what I fear most is not rejection

Not inspection

Not reflection

What I fear are the words

From your delicate pink lips

Months, years from now

“If only you’d have made a move…

I was waiting for you to pull me towards your racing heart.”

And I say those same words

Each night

in the shadow

of our evenings

As I wait.

Patient

contemplating time's snicker.

I wait.

I wait.

For just a touch.

A kiss.

A sign.

Just a word

That now

Is the time.

A simple moment

Sublime.

~ for Janine, November 5, 2008 at 8:04pm

Peaks

for Paulette.

I.

She sat on the piano bench
Holding court
The memory hazy but for the falling
Away
Of
The


Earth.

II.

Suspicion reigned on her brow
Perfunctory "Hello"
Was I here to steal their boy?
Who was this macho-jock-surf hippy
Traveling incognito with their Carlitos?

Joanne talked of massaging your stomach in a clockwise motion as to better facilitate shitting. "Works every time," she said.
No b.s. this one (Pun up-ended).
He showed me the view from this precarious perch on Twin Peaks. Wide. Bright and vast.
In the undulating heat waves on the window glass
the hills of San Francisco, City of Dreams, moved
like the shimmering bay in the distance... Waves of Victorian edge and psychedelic color. I turned and in the dim unlit room
saw her move out of the corner of my eye
The memory of the decor, the ambiance, the passing of time is hazy but for the falling
Away
Of
The
Earth .



III.

Inadvertently
You broke a rule, a confidence.
The Seal of Approval,
The Panel of Experts was not consulted.
The sacred text opened and in the bob and weave of the road's
playful twisting he offered you a glimpse into my creative heart.
By chance
By fate's kind grace
Pages turned as if by themselves
revealing two women, embracing.
Hazy, art-y, naked.
Your eyes stopped and scanned the red ink handsomely caressing the edge of the photocard. You saw your name. You saw her name.
You saw my knowledge and acceptance and sensitive attraction
To the beauty of your love for each other.
"A-ha...so he's not scouting for Carlitos
He's watching me. He's attracted to me. He's taken by me...
I guess he might not be so bad after all."
Your innate curiosity was tickled
Your cynicism on call.
Your face, eyes, voice, statuesque beauty,
aura, flora, fauna, (do ya wanna?)
etched into my cells for life since the moment I saw you
sitting on the piano bench
holding court
tho' the rest of the details of that fateful moment, like
this road to Stinson beach, are hazy but for the falling
Away
Of The Earth.

IV.

Picnic. Camera. Dune grass
waves us in for a landing.
Sun bright, "Californian, like us," he said.
Our quartet sitting cross-legged in the sand.
She, sarcastic and funny full of mischief.
He, open, naive and trusting
Excited and trepidatious at the same time
And you
Suddenly curious and careful
but pushing the envelope that lies between the two
its glue wet and ready to seal
or not.

I shot you with a fork in your mouth
Lips pursed, no smile...not my best camera work, no doubt,
But those eyes --
Staring straight into me
Dead serious
Like a vow, a four-alarm fire.
You pulled me aside
away from the others.

"Let's walk..."

you said, for the first of many times to come.
A frequent signal
of a special, connective moment
just around the corner,
down the stairs...but the memory is hazy, gleaned from old photographs and the passionate re-telling of the tale
but for the Falling
Away
Of The
Earth.


V.

We walked toward the Pacific.
Verdant, grassy roller-coaster hills challenge our vision
In a race to the churning drama of the sea
As if the drought's powerful hold on their rolling existence
Meant not near as much as the exhilaration of the fall to mother ocean.
"At least I'm enjoying the ride" goes the song,
not yet written here in 1977.
Gray, foaming brine, so distant
So unrepresentative of our young, focused, searching minds.
Our identification with the sea's battering, relentless, insistence...
Its violent, upheaval of all solid matter...
Its mirror's opaque stare, chipping away at time's handiwork
wouldn't wash over us 'til much later in our lives.
For now, the sea was playful, pretty and vastly intriguing.

For now, I became that hill
Tam's hips giving in to gravity.
Gravity = fun, a playful force. Apples and such. Cosmic balance.
Without gravity, Flight = boredom.
For each slow, rising climb there followed an instant of inertia Followed by a swift, giddy decline
A breath at the bottom as the speed sucks in its stomach for the next
Lesser rise...
Only to plunge joyously down, faster
With each dip and gully and mound and...
overhead the treacherously deep, serious blue of the sky
Smiled upon my heart a billowy kaleidoscope of acceptance.


The moment spread before me
diffusing time into something not to be conquered or feared
So deliciously ornate and uncluttered
Uncomplicated
Molasses on granite
Crawling up out of the cracks of the unimpressed stone
Widening our view, buffering our remedies
Scaling peaks we've yet approached.
Time -- a big, forgiving roving pick-up band of starving mariachis
Playing harmonized counter-point:
Two melodies, one spontaneous purr...
Your voice pulls my unfocused eyes from the horizon's indifference
Though the memory of your words is hazy but for the falling
Away Of The Earth.

VI.

Carlitos called in a panic
"You must come out here tonight. She called.
We're celebrating her birthday and she wants to get together with you.
Aren't you excited?" he gushed as I pulled the skin I'd just jumped out of
back on over my head.
She arrived just after I did and our eyes met. It wasn't a spark really that I saw, just something indescribably familiar...irresistibly comfortable...I fell into her spell like a hypnotist's show dog. Easy mark.
Our words danced around each other like moths fully cognizant of the implications of a flame this bright. Carlitos fluttered around us like a proud Mama chattering about his refried beans and folding together burritos with fresh Spinach from his garden while our energies folded together with fresh panache from our candid pantries. We ate and I tasted her interest and prayed she tasted my eager exhilaration.
As I swirled her questioning gaze
over my taste buds for a brief moment longer
the door flew open and St. Theresa Nightingale flew in
on the fragrant breeze breaking our concentration with a cloud of sparkling wrap-around joy. Our private feast was over. Dessert would be served 14 miles west as I sat stunned and interrupted in my reverie.


-- The kitchen of this tiny bayside apartment
was filled to bursting with laughing
loving
beautifully enticing women
none of whom had a pinch of interest in the two men
sitting in the living room adjacent.
Their camaraderie and attentions were reserved for each other
and he and I sat and talked for hours.
Saving the world.
Planning our destinies.
Soliloquies of beauty and madness and youth and passionate confusion.
Of course, I heard not a word that either of us spoke.
Even the turntable's repetitive caress of the same side of this record
Gato Barbieri's caliente tenor lines
blowing sensuous Latin tones into the air
over and over again
went in one ear and out the toe.
My mind was on the kitchen doorway.
She sat, her long legs folded under her on the straight-backed chair
Laughing, talking, glancing every few seconds
out into the room
where my eyes were always waiting for hers.
We spent 3 hours looking at each other
through the bustling haze of swirling conversation around us
talking with our eyes, catching up on way-old times
times even we didn't recall,
lives we could only surmise had been shared between the ancient relatives of these two pair of eyes.


Suddenly, she stood, walked to me as my flesh tingled
-- My heart beat like a Buddy Rich coronary test pattern
"Let's walk..."

We got as far as the bottom of the stairs
She turned and put her long fingers on my arm
She told me that the woman that she loved
Was the only woman she had loved
That she liked men
That she really liked men
That she liked what was going on between us
That she wanted me to know where she stood
That she wanted me to know that she was very much
very sure that she very much
would like to get to know me better
She called me "Bradley" and I think we walked back up the stairs
to an old-boyfriend/"coming-over-tomorrow-may-be-better" party
but of this
my memory is hazy but for the falling
Away
Of
The
Earth.



VII.

My thoughts of her
rose with me in the mornings that followed
Carried me through classes blunting my tired stupors with smiling
certainty,
Ate meals alongside me
Followed me to movies ("cheap date")
Rang their presence around every chiming note of music I heard
Every bit of conversation, every smile and every breath...
My vocabulary increased incrementally by the amount of time I spent in her presence --
reincarnation, inhibition, fascination, imperfection,
unrequited, reunited, love-at-first-sighted...

I lay in a small room off Clayton Street back porch
and wrote a poem, striving to live up to my misguided poetic yearnings
-- in the dawn's light I heard the magnificent whisper
of their lips meeting
the lovers' embrace
and I wrote of an ant carrying two purple flower petals
from under the door
past me and into your room...
an offering.
I wanted to crawl in right behind him
invisible
and luxuriate in the light of your love for each other.
But, I was me...hard to believe
and turned to the other door
silently watching the morning's charm
wink at me
thru the frosted glass
some unknown secret slinking off with the comforting fog
adrift in worlds it would not be my calling to render apart.


We haunted bookstores and restaurants and bars
falling into each others' confidence and trust
with an agile grace not known to either of us before.
With a speed and depth that would have caused
nosebleeds and conniptions and screaming hallucinogenic visions
to lesser humans.
There we were in our invincibility
Our connected, directed, reflected strength
Shivering like babies,
like hairless ducklings sliding on ice
quacking on about fear
patience
uncertainty
as if we couldn't have saved the world
if we'd been able to see past our new roses.

Other than the vision of her from the chest up over cappuccino
or pasta or drinks sitting at a table across from me looking positively gorgeous straight into my eyes and yearning for connection and profundity and that smile and spontaneous laugh making me want to be the funniest man on earth at that very moment...
other than that
the memory is hazy but for the falling
Away
Of the
Earth.


VIII.

Sometimes, late at night
after too much wine
or too much whining
too many decibels
too many hours just plain surviving
I wake in a cold sweat and the only way to fall
back into the comforting shroud only sleeping through dawn can inspire
is to count
...not sheep
not stars
not coins, cars or minutes between the far-off hum of the passing trains
I count words
sentences
silences
fragments of the endless conversation we call friendship
That years ago fell into a pattern
a pattern of miles
initiative
doubts and white hot indecisiveness
kept at a safe but questioning distance
a conversation that began once
and continued through the ether
soaring through space like the path of human thought
all dream and vision
certainty and hope
faith and passion
belief in the rock solid destiny and kindness and grace
that placed you on a piano bench
and me, head heavy on this pillow
and I count
hazy
but for the comforting falling away
of
the Earth.

-- july 1996

THE WAKING DREAM

I.
Alone
I live a waking dream
each moment
touched
a truth unseen.
But there she is before me still
as real as evening’s coming thrill

Alone
awake where vision strong
each moment
graced
by sleep’s sweet song
and all I feel surrounding me
as real as dreamed lucidity

Alone
I sleep and she is there
beside me fingers in her hair
pressed warm and close against me, tight
as dawn to day, dream to night

Alone
I live a waking dream
each moment
touched
a truth unseen
and here she is, here safe from harm
a waking dream safe in my arms

II.
What’s that sound of breaking glass?
or shattered hearts
or time that passed
too fast
too soon
too good to last?
What is that sound?

III.
Am I a fool for falling in
your pool of eyes that capture men
to steal their hearts and make them spin.
Am I a fool for falling in?

Was I a fool to just not see
that you could never fall for me
or just a man with hopes and dreams
just wanting love and softer things?
Was I a fool to just not see?

And as a fool, I wait in line
for short, sweet moments that I find
each time your eyes look into mine
so still this fool, he waits in line.

Of course, I just can’t help myself
hope you could want me on your shelf
in spite of all my inner doubts
to sing your praises, shout them out
and so this fool can’t help himself.

I’ll be this fool until I die
for beauty will just catch my eye
and make me hope and dream and cry.
I’ll be this fool until I die.

And as a fool I stand my ground
won’t trade a moment I have found
so while I can, I’ll hang around…
to catch a glimpse, to see you smile
to hear you laugh, to spend a while
to touch your hand, to dream and pray
that maybe once, perhaps someday
I’ll hold you close and feel your skin
against my own and someday when
I’ll taste your lips, so soft and sweet
thank destiny, led us to meet.

IV.
In the aftermath
of your confession
I can
literally
think
of nothing
except the excruciating fact
that we may
never
experience
our
first
kiss
together. This
simple
fact alone
completely
ruins
my day.

V.
“What would you like?” she said to me with her usual rushed but sweetly genuine smile.
Super white tuna, sliced jalapenos, salmon, wasabi tobiko,
wrapped around
cruncy spicy tuna and more jalapenos.

I realize that I just asked you for “A Kiss of Fire.”
You laugh. “Later”
and giggling
walk on to the next waiting table.
My eyes well up
and burn
long
before
the meal
arrives.

VI.
And when I leave town
can I get a picture
too?
Smile pretty
with you
on my arm?
A souvenir
of a heart
that fell
too
fast.

VII.
Soon, I’ll be gone. Distant.
Surrounded by loving family.
Seductive waves of lustful adventure
two glorious women on either side of me
caressing my excitement
my neglected years
realized dreams and fantasies.
But amidst these joyous days
not one will go by unscathed
without yearning
for your passing touch
upon my waiting arm
laid across this sticky table
counting the minutes
until you pass again
always saying, “I’ll be right back”
always a soft touch of your fingertips
or if I’m lucky
a sharp, friendly slap on my bicep
when I say some smart or funny remark.
How I love, miss
and long for those sharp, little slaps
wishing for one
right now
right here
right anywhere
wherever I am.

VIII.
This moment
a realization
that no matter how patient
how slowly we take it
how careful and considered my every move
at this very moment
as you go home to his arms
to your books
your studious nights
that my dreaming is just that,
the void within me cannot be filled
as it has been thus far
with your smiles
glancing touches
quick hello and goodnight hugs
and splattered
half-finished sentences.

In a world of hope
that which seemed enough
Is now just shattered dreams
become real.

But still
with each moment
each look into your eyes,
even if it’s some one-sided connection
I’ve fabricated in my hopeful imagination,
can so change
the definition of beauty and life
as we know it.

And to say I’ve seen something in those eyes
smiling back at me
a blessing
I’ll not soon forget.

IX.
When you told me you were spoken for
a boyfriend there behind your door
oh, how my heart crashed to the floor
surprising me
surprising me.

I wondered how I’d spend my time
instead of looking forward to
our fleeting moments so sublime
I wanted you
so wanted you.

Though lovers, two
I hold so close
with tenderness
and lust and love,
it seems my arms desire the most
embracing, open sharing of
impassioned hearts and minds and souls
of those who can observe me whole,
in all my splendid dignity
to hurt no one, creatively.
In you and them
found those who can
embrace this loving
“Renaissance man.”

Not something that I’d call myself
more like “A Dreaming Realist”
expect that where I am, I’ll be,
for bliss and pain, both sides we see.
The zin, the yang; the good, the bad
And so it goes, the happy, sad
In life, in love, in ecstasy
is also sorrow, hurt and we
accept both sides and become free.

So love, at times comes easily
or grabs us when we least expect.
We pray don’t treat love carelessly
enjoy the thrill with deep respect.
It wavers, drifts, ebbs and flows
so we must grab it when it shines.
However long its fire glows
ignoring so much fleeting time.


~ lyrics and poetics inspired by LS