marriage

marriage:
-bedsheet tug-of-war (brrr)
-your alarm saving mine (always)
-bathroom time (should i leave it running?)
-have-a-nice-day-kisses (running late!)
-your hair on my jacket (10 am meeting)
-your message: smiling pile of poo (tmi)
-crowded 6 train back (homeward!)
-food (…i’ll get the dishes hun)
-middle couch cushion (jenga feet)
-existential dread (whatchawannawatch?)
-bed time (COME.TO.BED!)
-super serious life-talk (can we, like, tomorrow?)
-…i love you too…too much (no…don’t say that…it’s true…how much…this much!!!)

(dedicated to Ruthie - my heart’s rest, the dream of my past, and my waking joy).

Drapetes

Round orbs of fire glowed against the night shadows

Dotting four or five spots along the top of the old castle wall

(were we seen?)

We ran shirtless, zig-zagging down narrow and uneven steps

Padding barefoot and scattering grit

And sweating in the blue air

Someone splashed into the water first and the rest of us followed

The low moon hung above the waves was chopped into bright wedges

That we slapped down with hard strokes,

Pulling our way into the world

I looked back a few times (I wasn’t the only one who did)

The shouts and clanking behind us were now soft and warm

Like a pillow whisper before a dream

The friendly boat glided darkly towards us (just in time)

We flopped onto the wooden bow and smiling teeth and

Callused hands helped us to our feet

Some of us went below deck to eat warmth and 

Drink yellow-hued company

Cozy under a low ceiling

A few of us remained topside a little longer, feeling significant

I still remember the deep sky expanding in our chests

And thrill winds of escape cradle-rocking and swirling over our wet skin

I was cold and miserable

Passion Unwise

if life is a journey as is often said
then surely i would be wise to
use recommended roads
find good companions
hope for boredom
nothing unusual
read billboards
drive carefully
pay tolls
strap in
sit
and
never see
what lies behind
the tree lines that blur by
looking more like green fencing
and less like the gate through to my way
but if life is apple pie then it's best while warm
and if it's music, i'll wiggle dance like i'm three

"Many are stubborn in pursuit of the path they have chosen. Few in pursuit of the goal."

After Chopping Wood

High abandon exposes
The loved child
Whose whole world is a hearth.
She ghosts beneath
The grown-ups' knees,
As they sit on encircled stumps
Around their flame
With a play of shadows
Dancing between smile lines
As they watch
And wordlessly nod
And raise a toast with tiny cups -
For Joy ever was a spirit best sipped
...with a kiss...

Black Moon

Fear-some?

Tonight a symbol
(sometimes, just a man)
A witness or suspect,
Or a history
Approaches
Beneath lamplit
Branches.

In our night's
Easy caress,
The black
Heart breaks
More often
Than in a
Blue moon.

To Smoothen

The depilatory effect of aging

Grows more glaringly

Into the perfect metaphor

Of how the august deluge 

Will polish our hardness

Smooth and gleaming

Rounded and strewn

Like so many pebbles

Clacking their balderdash

Running along a river bank

To Reign

Condensing
Clouds
Into rain is 
The trick.

Your
Floating
Water
Should
Flow
And not stick to skies,
No matter
How blue
They may seem,
To bake and parch
The terrain of your

Dreams -

Your dancing seedlings
That pine for the Flash
And Clap! -
That know that all Pressure
Spells Hope.