July 17, 2017

When I wake in the morning
I search for you.
I look for you across the sheets
I overturn the pillows
And tear up the bed clothes
I hunt for your scent
And pause to hear your sound
But you are not there

It’s the wild desolation of the morning
A beach with companion waves
And the distant cross of an albatross
Still too far away.



July 17, 2017

It has been a while since
I stared at the lonely moon
And made my way among stars
Through the labyrinth of the night
With that belief of gloom.
The night is not oppressive
I find no detritus of an expired day
Nor meet growling phantoms,
Fashioned from dust clouds,
As I turn down an alleyway.
Streetlights are not candlelights
Moonlit flowers are not wreaths
And my rumpled sheets
Are not submerging waves
Just a bed on which I sleep.
And it’s because of you –
That my lines don’t flow
Wounds are bound, blood is stanched
I feel no burn nor taste the salt
For you have made me happy now.

Evening – I

April 1, 2017

The heavy breath of afternoon lifted,
Cool wind and light begin to sing
And the world a last pageant creates
Before the darkness comes rolling in.

On the street people stroll
With no purpose but the air to eat
Or to chant quiet incantations
To whatever God to whom they dream.

Under the tree watching the shadows grow
Creating shapes of spires and domes
That ring with the orioles and hummingbirds rapture
As the shutters of the evening begin to close.

Skies bleed from orange to red
And the sun belies his weakness with hot flames
Turning all to shadows and then all to dark
One brush to paint, one song to sing, no variation remains.

Moons, ivories, instruments, roses,lamps and the line of Dürer, 

the nine figures and the variable zero,

I shall pretend that these things exist.
I shall pretend that in the past they were

Persepolis and Rome and that fine

sand measured the fate of the crenel

that the centuries of iron undid.


I shall pretend the arms and the pyre

of the epic and the heavy seas

that gnaw from the pillars of the Earth. 
I shall pretend there are others. It’s a lie.

It’s only you. You, my misfortune

and my fortune, inexhaustible and pure.


December 14, 2015

Let me be lonely.
Leave me here alone in the dark backroom of the day,
Amidst the tumult and rags of the evening,
When the sky is of grey misery
And the moon is lost in the closet, tangled and torn. 
Let me sit by the window and drink,
That solitary cup of coffee
And pretend to enjoy the solitude.
Yes, leave me here to hear what hollowness sounds
The creeping void of forever and unknown.
Yes, leave me here astray and cold
For the great hearts are no more
And only beats are the beats of clock
Reminders of when I have to walk through the final door.

Fall Morning

November 9, 2015

I wake in the morning, and it’s still dark;
The winter grey has come.
Light shiver from the kiss of cold air
And the sharpness that pierces
Like an arrow when I breathe.
Trees outside my windows droop,
Beams in the wedding hall undecked,
The few leaves are mere remnants of a dream
Of summer racing through the streets.
Yes, summer, with its promise of forever,
Hinted but never spoken,
And now in these dark northern days
With iron clad skies, summer’s mocking laughter echoes.
Come, lets rise from this slumber
And walk the grey streets, with grey skies and grey people,
All funeral quiet with listless eyes,
And face the wreckage of dreams, all dreams
As they and I
Wish to be elsewhere, anywhere, but here.

Friends – Julio Cortazar

November 6, 2015

out of the smokes, the coffee and the wine
they rise to appear at the edge of night
like those voices you hear singing somewhere
far down the street, what song you can’t make out.

Brothers whom destiny has loosely bound,
sons of Zeus, pale shades, they shoo the flies
of my habits and they keep me afloat
when the vortex threatens to suck me down.

The dead speak louder, whispering the past,
the living are a warm hand and a roof:
my total losses and my total gains.

So one day, when I’m ferried through the gloom,
I’ll cinch their absence to me like a vest
of this old tenderness that says their names.


November 4, 2015

Listen, listen to the song of Evenfall,
To lingering notes of summers retreat,
The long winding tune of fading fire
And the haunting of silenced heat.
It is a decieving tune,
Soft, soothing but sinister strain
Tieing and knotting the bands of clouds
and darkening the sky with its refrain.
Wrapped in notes of this exquisite night
Starlights whisper their quiet lament
Quivering and lingering on the air
As all around the world falls silent.


And I know full well you won’t be there.

You won’t be in the street, in the hum that buzzes

from the arc lamps at night, nor in the gesture

of selecting from the menu, nor in the smile

that lightens people packed into the subway,

nor in the borrowed books, nor in the see-you-tomorrow.

You won’t be in my dreams,

in my words’ first destination,

nor will you be in a telephone number

or in the color of a pair of gloves or a blouse.

I’ll get angry, love, without it being on account of you,

and I’ll buy chocolates but not for you,

I’ll stop at the corner you’ll will never come to,

and I’ll say the words that are said

and I’ll eat the things that are eaten

and I’ll dream the dreams that are dreamed

and I know full well you won’t be there,

not here inside, in the prison where I still hold you,

nor there outside, in this river of streets and bridges.

You won’t be there at all, you won’t be even a memory,

and when I think of you I’ll be thinking a thought

that’s obscurely trying to recall you.

To a friend who left

October 8, 2015

We did not mean to part
On the road, at the fork,
We took our leave
Not farewell,
For either road we could see
And hail to each as we traveled
On the road to the sea
The fog came down
And through the dark
Our voices grew faint
Lanterns dimmed
Faint cry of gulls
And rush of waves
Were soon all we had
On the endless way…
– and at the bend in the road
When we met again
We knew not each other
Time and tides had washed us away