Going back

 May 19th 2025 

I wish I could live my life backwards, the way Merlin did, to avoid the pitfalls and unto my mistakes I can see coming, even at the cost of not knowing where I end up, forgetting not what I did before, rather what I am expected to do, and I wonder, will love be better in the rewind then when I livd my life going forward? will going back alive the pain of it as I approach it the other way around, reverse the whole thing so I forget heartbreak or, as I look ahead (back) to what made love so special when it began, recoup the magic before the vanishing act, time making the whole thing better until I get to the nub of it, that special moment when I first recognized that love was love 

Still longing for it

 June 19th 2025 

I still think about it, about not having it when once I did, one of life's painful lessons we must learn the hard way, not self denial rather exile, all these years later, still mesmerized, hypnotized, unable to make heads or tails of it, or what led up to its decline, and whether it was really real in the first place, you don't long for it for so long and think it was empty, the residue of something telling you it must have been something once, even if it no longer does, even if too much time has passed, this evaluating it, real or not, I still long for it, still think about it, about what it meant if it meant anything and if it still does, when I wanted to

Getting to the core of it

May 30th 2015 I crawl across your skin with my fingers, spider like, that same hungry look in my eyes, and I touch those most sacred places, the knot of hills, the depth of the valleys, dry land and moist, then repeat this with my lips and tongue, tasting the salt of sweat then the sweet juice that inspired by it all, a slow crawl over a landscape I ache to learn more about, in every way possible, to feel how the Earth moves with each inch I travel, the shake of you as you shudder, I taste it all as if I traveled miles from top to bottom, the lingering over each earlobe, the slow suck at each breast, then to the core of it where the greatest treasure is, as I reach as deep as I can to get all that I can

Echoes Dec. 29, 2012

  

I talk to myself in an echo chamber, so, the only voice I hear is my own, when I still wish I could hear yours. Maybe it is still there somewhere, rebounding off the walls of this museum I call my brain, most apparent in the dead of night, in the silence the world sometimes brings after sunset when the echoes are least unbearable, and I can suppress my thoughts as I search for yours, this late in this dying year when we are condemned to look back at what we’ve done, and who we’ve become; the echoes not as acute as the need for me to listen for the more subtle voice I know must be there, not so direct as conversation as we once had, and yet, an unbreakable connection you do not wish for but most somehow tolerate. I listen for you to speak, to whisper in the cacophony of echoes, to relate something I might otherwise miss, a piece of this history collected in my mind, an exhibit I must revisit each night when I close my eyes and listen for you, praying not to lose your voice among the echoes of my own.

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Fighting fire with fire May 28, 2015

 

The fire inside her burned so hot, I had to use a fire house to extinguish it, or tried, her inferno setting me ablaze as we wrested to subdue the flames, rolling back and forth, in out of control fury as I pumped myself up to get to the point where I could squirt inside, but alas to no avail, the more we pumped the hotter the fury got, consuming us, and yet we could not stop, needing to reach that point where we could eject it, and then let the flames subside, as we clutched each other for support, her fire still smoldering even as mine went out, hers setting me ablaze again, until we both came to realize, the only way to contain it was to fight fire with fire until we were consumed.

 

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Why do I love thee? Aug. 21, 2014

 

 

Although I love thine eyes, it is not for those that I feel so strongly, even though their stare penetrates to the depth s of me and stirs my heart like no other can.

It is not just for thine smile that I love then, even though each time I look on it, I feel the irresistible urge to kiss, to taste what you taste, taste like, and feel your sweet lips against mine.

It is not only the way you stand or walk that intrigues me, though I admire all, and feel my heart stirred when you pass, not goddess so much as fully woman.

It is not desire that merely draws me towards you, even if for not it makes me quake, for as we know time changes such superficial attributes, and if only for these things I love, I know they will not last.

No, I love thee because you’re something more, something potent and permanent, I know will go on and on, regardless of how time might seem to dim those things, you are much more and always will be.

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Lost at sea again May 20, 2025

  

I’m down at the place where the rich people park their yachts, and feel like I have come back home, back when at a kid I crawled under the hulls of the boats my grandfather build to tighten the lugs on windshields, he was too old and fat to reach, and in those moments his attention turned elsewhere, I’d grip the steering wheels and pretend I have gone to sea, still on dry land, still trying to impress the girl next door, whose well-endowed chest I once saw when she failed to shut the blinds to her bedroom, sending my hormones adrift, leaving me (and not for the last time) lost in the high waves I could barely navigate, she letting me kiss her when she climbed into the boat at night, and still all these years later, I’m still lost at sea, if not with she, then with another, down at the place where the rich people park their yachts, as I wonder, are we all in the same yacht now, me, she and that mysterious other.

 

 

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