JESSICA ELIZABETH

 

We met over pasta when you were 18

And I was more than a tad older.

You waited on me

And while I waited on you

We spoke of my ever-present reading material

Something on meditation and desire.

You spoke of your mother

And how she was the spiritual type

Sounded like a hippie sort to me

Just friendly and wise

And obviously sexy like you.

I didn’t know that she was gone.

But I knew that you were here

Now

In the present moment

The most alive creature I had ever known

All tangled between innocence and loss

Experience and discovery

And I yearned for more.

Your smile

Radiant and electric

From the moment our eyes met

And not just that practiced

“Please tip me, sir”

smile of a waitress dressed up

alluring and serving

just enough to entice

a few extra percentage points from my wallet.

This smile said, “Teach me.

I’m ready for more.

What can you tell me of life

That will make all this pain

Go away

All of these questions

Make sense.”

The smile that began answering

those same questions for me.

~ for Ms. Mitchell

Appetizer

Half way through the appetizer
I was treated to dessert--
The swift realization
In a short few minutes time
That all was as I had expected
That time has not proven the wiser
That what was real then
Exists as firmly now
As the notion of sun, stars, moon and sky--
That the memory of what was right before
Remains as certain now
And again
Our timing out of sync
But what a joy the ease of falling back
Into each other's orbits has been.
Instant buzzing goodness.
Delicious connection.
Mmmmm, another helping,
please.

~ for SV, BBC, 12/4/06

First published in my blog on MySpace.com/v32unes 

Compass Points

NORTH

Magnetic pull
Strong and silent
Comfort in the solace
Of changing seasons.
Ritual
Routine
Stalwart stoicism
Dimpled smile
In the face of daily rigor
Plowing ahead
No instruction
No procrastination
Action
Simplicity
Focus.

SOUTH
Saucy
Sultry moist heat
Pretending to embrace fully
Something guessed at
Yearned for
Glimpsed
Surface grin
Inner fear
Vibrant attachment
To flux
Boundaries fixed
Finagled
Reconfigured
To suit the moment's
Rationale
Exuberant nosedive
Bungee'd back to earth
Loose
Tension.
Dream
Nightmare
Passing eye's blink
Smile's coaxing turn.

EAST
Balanced
Tactile
In her moment
Reaching out
To bring together
Connect
The open space
Between us all
By being herself
Working at it
Living it
Courting it
Seducing self
For others
Now from then
Feeling her power
Deeply
Stirringly
Endearingly
Valiantly.

WEST
A magnificent wreck
of strength
Fortitude
Will
Focus
Motion.
She is not the moon
But the weight of its pull
On the tides.
Mysteriously
Forthright
Deliciously confused
And loving it.
Like me
A conundrum.
Answers not always
Self-applicable
But always
Searching
Seeking
Answers. 

~ written 10/3/06 and published the same day in my blog on MySpace.com/v32unes. Written for four important women in my life through the years. 

Poem For Three Friends

REASONS

I'm going to the funeral of a woman that I barely knew
Because I believe she was kind to people.
I believe she was a generous spirit
And a giving soul.
So many people I know say the same.

I go because of her smile and laughter
Brightened my day whenever we met
Because her husband, quick with a pun,
Long on fun and good vibes
Always made me feel comfortable
Whenever I was in his sphere.
I believe that part of what makes us human
Able to live with the vicissitudes of this finite life
Is the sharing of our grief
The absorption of each others pain
To help us all lessen the hurt.
A gift of compassion.

I go to her funeral to say goodbye
To praise her life
Send her on her peaceful journey.
Later I will sing songs of joy and sadness
Meditate on transcendence
And living a life of purpose
In the face of the impermanence of time
In the face of all that makes this path
An uphill climb.

I go to her funeral
To share and accept the pain of those I love
Those who loved and will miss her dearly
My good friends, acquaintances,
Familiar faces, estranged lovers,
All of who traveled our wide circle.

I go to hold you all close
To reach out and into our aching hearts
Our need to know things we will never know
Our need to feel connected
To something larger than ourselves.

And I go for you
To bear witness to an important transition
In your life
Not just for the departed,
Her dear husband, children, friends and family
But for you,
The woman I have loved so dearly
Who shared dreams and brief moments
Filled with so much hope
And though we are at a point
In our long friendship
Where patience, understanding,
And closeness are at their most precarious
I feel your pain at this magnanimous loss
That is so close to your heart
This person we say farewell to today
That has been such a force in your life.

And though I had known them
Only peripherally
For years
Dancing around bars, bandstands, and living rooms
What I loved so much was seeing you through their loving eyes.
I admired your dedication to each other
And it helped me to know you better
To love you all more.
What I remember most about her is that
You seemed to always be reintroducing us,
Again and again, to our amusement.
"Do you know Connie?" you'd say,
And we'd laugh
As one of us would always hug the other
And say, "Of course,"
"Absolutely."
We'd smile, feeling a part of your world
A beautiful, warm circle of friends.

I loved that I always knew that no matter
What happened between you and I
That you would always have friends like them
To see you through the hard times
To be there when you needed them most.
I love them for helping me know your heart better
And you for allowing me the joy and pleasure
Of their smiling, joyous company.

~ for Leslie, Connie and Gary, 9/16/06 

First published on my MySpace.com blog

The Tao of Butterflies

Why mourn the cocoon
After the butterfly has flown
-- anonymous

....

You are my friend
Confidant
My ballast
My great, lost love

And
Because of the weight
Of those commitments
We are destined
to disappoint
Each other on occasion.

Our love
the cocoon
From which two
delicate
beauties spring to life.


-- for LC. 8/8/06

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)

ON THIRTY

At eight years past
Or perhaps six
You were pulled
Arguing, across my path
by a girl with eyes wide set as mine.
You wore the faddish
stupid pants of the day.
Eventually
I rolled up my sleeves
And threw my forearms
Around your raving countenance.
You paced
Still do
Frenetic
Anxious
Sponge on wheels
Suck it up
All glorious life
All yammering living.

Tonight
Your 29 years
Still tumescent
Roll away behind you.

I ride facing backwards on a train
From jazz central
Back into the womb
Of your caring family
And eloquent friends
Together
Celebrating your breath
Laughter
Your flow
Magical exuberance of sexy intellect
Childish insecurity
And macho vitality.

We love every bit
Toast your life
Hold you close
Want forever
Your respect
Promise our love
Declare our loyalties.

Your world
Always ours
Our joy at your presence
Tasting
Of deep red wine
on our tongues.













~ for NG, 4/25/08

NO MATTER

No matter
How often you find your way into my dreams
Or sail into my thoughts on a breeze of light
Randomly
Bring a grin from under my beard

No matter
How often I see your “xoxo”
In my inbox
Or recall your wondrous laugh
That fills my heart

No matter
How long I’m away
A week, a month, or longer still
I am always taken aback
Surprised
Unprepared
For how I, again
Cannot help but fall
Head over heels
The moment
I see you again.





~ for LS, 8/11/08

Mirrors

I.
Now
you are me
jealousy beckons me
forward
toward the strength
of your fragile ego
the embrace
of your outstretched friendship
the cool,
fragrant,
musky scent
of your love for her.

She
the catalyst
the muse
passionate vehicle
coincidentally
exposing my buried self-confidence
bruising my ticking clock
like a mirror
of when I was you.

(When
I became
one
with the wildcat
of my inner
reverberating
restlessness...
When
the world's mystery and newness,
apocalyptic tumbling
head
over ass
-kissing
heels
dealt a daily blow
to what I considered reality...
When
I was convinced the world was my canvas
that my SPIRIT
my eyes
my liberal soul
would chase down the devil's dragons
beat them into fiery oblivion
with passion
grace
and beautiful
caring Heart.

My fingertips touched
everything --
new...)


II.

to drink wine
on a marble statue of some
pioneering immigrant
who made the wild
wilderness of San Francisco
tame
for legions of thrill-seeking
maverick
mind-rovers
for all times to come.

I sat
with one of few angels
who have graced my intellect,
my battered soul
my racing heart
with instant
no
holds
barred
timeless understanding.

We drank
We cried
We drank
watched twinkling ships
turn to stars
dotting the pre-fog horizon
touched each other's skin
with laughing breath
drying the tears
with dreams.

I'd go away and scribble down
inane
though heartfelt
mirrors of my tortured love
of my naive fears
of open,
thrilled eyes

when I was you.

-- 6/20/96 fat rick's
for nicky galasso