“The Love of My Life,” she called him

and he thought, everyone should have a Love of My Life, to be able to write love poems to them, like this one:

Blessing The Wounds

You sent me alone to the concert hall
Where only half the notes played
Until the music discovered your face—
Your smile alive, in the smiles of my friends.

You called to say you weren’t coming
But when I turn around, there you are,
Reflected on each one of my walls and
Weaved in the silky sheets that cover my bed.

I spread you on my morning bread,
Drink your sweat to calm my thirst.
My palms rest on your skin. My fingerprints
I press, branding forever your flesh.

Thirty days I walked, my eyes shut
And in the darkness of my steps
I follow the warmth of your breath
Through the desert to the valley beyond.

Blessing the wounds we’ve carried,
Our true love joins us in the search for home.
We learn leaving from some lovers,
Only one can teach us the way back.

A Poem And A Photograph

IMG_1327

Inconclusive Thoughts

Inconclusive thoughts
And convictions. Unfinished
Building of character. The job
Not yet completed.
The slippery task of defining
My life, escaping again
Through fingers of frost.
As I speed through
This hazy early morning of thought,
I see rain, and then,
The slow lifting of ancient fog.

A Poem and a Photograph

Chained

POEM #—I DON’T KNOW…

Pretty much the way of the title my life without you goes:

‘Not knowing where the light of the world went’ when I am

without you.

Without you,

I loose the straight line that connects me to the center of all

good I’ve discovered in forty years of walking the roads,

without you.

Without you,

I don’t have to contend with friction or images of conflict

that show up in this mirrored instant we hold to each other.

Without you, all expectations, yearnings, expressions of lust,

are orphans born into the world, meaningless thoughts

going nowhere or disappearing into the darkness outside,

without you.

Without you,

I’ve often imagined my days, getting used to the impossible

thought you bear, like the cross where a dream dies alone,

without you.

Without you,

is also you without me, the letting go of the hand, the tearing

of heart tissue, the void in the eyes I become when I am

without you

—or you without me.

Reading Love Poems at The Christopher Street Coffeehouse, NYC

I was invited by my good friend–and singer/songwriter extraordinaire–Andy Marino, to read my work at this venue. I call these poems Attempts @ Poetry. They’re love poems written for a woman I’ve loved for 17 years. Or maybe it’s a thousand years, I lose count. Her name is Viola. She washed ashore on my island one day…

A Poem and a Photograph

NJ Sun and Sky - 12025

Love of My Lives

I am still your man, here still.

And after centuries measured

by small epiphanies,

my arms remain open,

my eyes your eyes seek.

Walking apart or abreast

my soul is complete

only when yours is near,

the spirit healed by your kiss.

Lovers, praying partners,

and friends we’ve been,

even secret members

of the same crime family.

Dancers in a cosmic ball

whose ancient rhythms

only the broken-hearted perceive.

Enemies and allies we’ve been—

fellow travelers in the far east.

Here I am, your man still,

still holding on to your hand.

Here to make reality

a holy promise made

the Spring I was shaken awake

—to meet once and for  all

with clean hands, clear eyes,

open hearts and a blessing

for each other upon our lips.

A Poem and a Photograph

Sun Embraces The Earth

Blessing The Wounds

You sent me alone to the concert hall
Where only half the notes played
Until the music discovered your face—
Your smile alive in the smiles of my friends.

You called to say you weren’t coming
But when I turn around, there you are,
Reflected on each one of my walls and
Weaved in the silky sheets that cover my bed.

I spread you on my morning bread,
Drink your sweat to calm my thirst.
My palms rest on your skin. I press
My fingerprints, branding forever your flesh.

Thirty days I walked, my eyes shut
And in the darkness of my steps
I follow the warmth of your breath
Through the dessert to the valley beyond.

We learn leaving from some lovers,
Only one can teach us the way back.
Blessing the wounds we’ve carried,
Our true love joins us in the search for home.

There’s A Child I Know

Ready for School

There’s a child that lives just under my skin

Who refuses to come out until I’ve settled some things

Let go of others, learn to breathe.

He only comes out when threatened or pleased

And is quick to decide whom he won’t play with.

His temper is short–the length of a smile exchanged

Between two strangers who briefly meet.

Everything’s a reminder of the playtime he’ll one day enjoy

When he learns to be good.

There’s a child living between my desires and my need,

Thirsting for acceptance and comfort

–my embrace he awaits.