Can you hear me knocking? March 11, 2026

 

She hung the “do not disturb” sign on her social media page, or maybe eliminated the door entirely, making it clear what I should have known all along, there is no welcome mat, no fond remembrances, just the same old same old, time doing nothing to erase all the bad feelings that came before, the door will always be closed. Some things are eternal, even when we might wish otherwise, too much water under that bridge as they say, a though that strikes me as I sand on the banks of a river too far down stream for even a glimpse of where she sis, at this time and place, the world no longer what it was, if it ever really want what I thought in the first place.

 

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Taste it

 July 16th 2015

I always want to taste it first before I go in, that subtle yet always present vinegar before I reach the sweet, this neat space front and back, each with its own delight which I need to moisten properly before I fully engage, as if I need to sample it before I fully commit, when I feel it all on the edge of my tongue, front and back and maybe then in the mouth, sweet lips top and bottom, something else when I open the back door, making it right for more vigorous exhortation, I need to taste it all sweet and sour, to know what exactly I'm getting into when I get there, like a milkman who delivers cream early in the morning, my footsteps rising up the steps of the back porch or unlocking the front door with my key, I need to taste it first before I come in 

must not do it aug 17, 2024

  

I must not do it

even if I ache too much

I must hold back

must tell myself to hold on

 and accept whatever gifts she gives

as insignificant as they might be like

 The echoes of whispers in the dark of night

these are my own wishes bouncing back at me

not any reflection of what she is or wants

 this all too mysterious an existence

of saying nothing

 I read clues from the shadows and tea leaves

 I must refrain; I must not do it

 must keep to my own road

even if there are times when

 I see her on her own and ache to cross over

 to greet her

 this I must not do

I know it would only get me lost in the woods

full of wolves and my own desires

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Our furry friends

 March 2, 2026 

We always outlive them, our furry friends, who when Young we adore them for their looks or silly disposition,or  tender hearts, that over time, grows into something much, much more, family, friend, a loved one who's stayed firmly at our side through good and bad times, missed all the more because it was there for us often when no one else was, a companion who we could not live without but must somehow do so now, not too overstated affection, we know their place and yet wanted more time with them, this is the Fate we accept when we accept them into our lives, the vow we take to make certain they get all they need while they are in our care, especially love. we will always miss them, if not always as acutely as we do now, at this moment when they passing is so recent. we will always love them, now and forever

Tipping point (from Bear mountain mountain)Mountain poems) Oct. 17, 2024

 

I know the leaves have

Already changed

Where she resides,

The tipping point of

When gold and red turn brown

And yet as I drive north

On a road that hugs a river

I cling to their aspect of beauty,

Taking in the painted tips

Remembering the tender lips,

the tree crowns

bulging out, making me ache

to touch, as I cling

to memory as these remaining

leaves cling,

the colors seeping into me

along with the growing chill

as the world changes

and I know I will have to

live with the barren world

when they are gone,

until spring brings green again,

yet it is not the same,

this image of leaves,

the color of the sky

the darkness in her eyes,

the setting sun peeking

perpetually through,

always drawing me back

always making me

think far too much

about what I miss,

when I miss her

most

 

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Poetry Journal May 2012

I don’t understand!

I don’t understand!

I DON’T UNDERSTAND!

This intensity of pain, nails scraped across the chalk board of her soul, a sound once inside my head, I can’t get out, a buzz saw ripping at my brain.

What did I do to inspire such pain.

I am not that important to her and yet I get this roar of it in my head, a screech so utterly raw my nerves ache just remembering it.

I don’t understand!

Did I rip off the scab of some old wound or have I created a new wound in her, that voice in my ears, as I staggered up that hill.

I don’t understand!

I don’t understand!

Maybe I never will.

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On the street where she lives

 August 25th 2014 

I hear by one time best friend's voice singing as I drive up the street where she lives,

His favorite song which has since become mine like a Broadway recital in words I get to play the role of the man wearing the gray top hat too scared to stop even for a stoplight since this is not a street I meant to drive on cast here by chance Force to Bear witness the water tower shopping center before passing the church and then her home,

On my way to a place where she is not terrified I might see her first bird like in a window high up smoke billowing from her lips as if she was a dragon my friend's voice growing louder in my head about the street where she lives because I cannot drive faster I must adore it bumper to bumper traffic light after traffic light until inching forward I have gone past and resisted even the remote temptation to stop or stand there looking up to be there on the street where she lives draw there by faith or accident just as I was with all things started me still on the street where she lives