Silent night Dec. 2013)

  

I keep hearing her sing

Silent night,

Even when I don’t hear it

On the internet,

A song I used to sing

But don’t have the range

Now that I’ve grown old.

I hear the song when

I stroll through the town

I cover,

Or down the streets

Of the town I will

Cover soon,

Twinkle of lights flashing

As I pass bars

And restaurants

And see images in some

I think might be her,

But are not,

The coal rattles in

My stockings as I

Make my way for yet

Another change of year,

And know all of what was

Now fades,

Even if I vaguely remember it,

And she is already moving on

From her role as Santa’s helper,

So, she can get back to

Helping herself.

I stroll the streets

Of Hometown, too,

Where her memory

Is most vivid

And therefore

Most painful,

I am living with

The ghost of Christmas past,

But none of Christmas future,

I hear her singing Silent Night

It is all that I have left.

email to Al Sullivan

Waiting for Groundhog day June. 19, 2026

 

 

I count the days until the groundhog comes, even though I do not believe we will get a reprieve from winter, seeing his shadow or not, we repeating everything over and over until we make things perfect when we could not do so during our first round. We must endure the torture winter inflicts, helpless to make it stop. We have no information to give, northing the inquisition wished to get from us, our lives dictated by fate, not fortune, waiting for when the cold leaves so we can breathe again,, this need for love so acute at times like this when all we have to cling to his a memory of what once was, and even then, an unreliable recollection as we repeat what we did, and can’t stop.

 

email to Al Sullivan

still doing it. 2014

  

do I still do it

when I think of you

 the way I did it back then

with each daily dose of you

 you sent via text?

 Do I still dream the same dream

long after it is impossible

for any such dream to come true

no matter how many times

I click my heels or wish to be back in Kansas?

Of course, I do

 can't keep from doing it

lost in the same fog now

as back then huddled in the basement

waiting for the text I know

will never come

and I must rely on what was

 rather than what is

 the archive of memory and photos

the imaginary flight I take after dark

 which one is not ever you

 looking always wishing for the dream to come true

 

email to Al Sullivan

Reflections in the window November 11, 2012

  

I stand on the cure and look up at the windows I used to imagine seeing her face behind, an illusion back then, when she had better things to do, more so now that she has gone – not too far, yet far enough, mingling with other people after having abandoned the old crowd here, these windows look out on a crowded city, on the skyline of a sleepless city, and I wonder what it is she really sees when she looks out, not just from this window but also from the window above the church year where she perches often like a bird, smoke billowing from her lips. What vision does she have, if not religious, then something equally profound, a sense of fate, the anticipation of greatness, she could not achieve here, behind this window, despite the reflection of the skyline in the glass.

I stand on the curb where I feel the emptiness flow over me as if a breeze, sweet scent of the river lost with the approach of winter, and I wonder, will I need to wait for spring to smell such sweetness again.

 

email to Al Sullivan

The beast inside June 16, 2015

 

It stirs inside me like a tiger trapped in a cage, banging its head against my ribs, and my crotch, aching for release, worst at night in the dark, alone, hearing its growl, feeling its vibration until I’m nearly crazy, no whip and chair can keep it contained, yet let it loose, it has no where to go without you.

It paces back and forth inside me, using up all the available space in my brain, each step a painful thought I cannot easily resolve. I am stiff with it, all over, the pangs like hunger that is not hunger for food, back and forth, up and down, in and out, this beast inside of me desperate to feed, to get its pound of flesh, to feed on you, night into day, into night again.

 

email to Al Sullivan

To the core Dec. 3, 2012

  

I felt it when it all began, something more than I could stand, yet I could to all proclaim, I so completely was to blame, hiding this thing of beauty like a jewel, too bright, too brilliant, some completely true, a gleam glowing in my eyes if not in yours, alas I admit I still adore,

Wishing it real with every breath, daring not to put it to test, to utter it too much aloud would make it vanish like a cloud, I stiffened to your impassioned touch, a fire I now know burned too much, and I wish I could forever keep hold, this jewel of which seemed so bold, I love you now as I always did, but I’m just brave enough to admit, how warm I felt when this close to you, now a chill I cannot undo, distance making the heart yearn more,

For the person I still adore, a loss I feel down to my core, and a voice in my head saying never more, and I know it is not the same, and know down deep I’m to blame.

 

 

email to Al Sullivan

How far is too far June 18, 2015

 

How far can I go before I cannot go any further, back and forth, then back again, letting my tongue run along the rim of each ripple before reaching deep, here, there and everywhere, how far can I go, to make you shudder, to make you convulse, circling each place until you tighten up with anticipation, asking for more than just where my tongue can go. How far is too far or not far enough, this romance, this dance, you looking down at me as  kneel before you, spreading it all open so as to leave all options on the bed, circling it all, front and back, then front again, feeling you stiffen with, you can’t hold back, making our want more than just where my face reaches, making you want to accept me, wholly. How far can we go, when it is too late to turn back

email to Al Sullivan