Looking up not out May 12, 2012

 

  I look up at them

From the outside,

Over the churchyard,

Where the rusted

Metal playground stuff

Has been replaced

By plastic that won’t

Rust,

Windows like eyes

That stare down,

Cold even in the sun

Distant,

The gaze of a remote

Goddess who gives

Me birthday wishes

As I grow old,

Windows I once

Had the chance

To look out from,

Never fully appreciating

The view,

Church and long street,

A water tower

A century out of date,

This haven of hers

Where she hides

On more desperate

Mornings, before

The sun wakes up

The world,

A Seventh Heaven

From which I have

Been cast out,

For having lost faith

In salvation.

 

 

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Point blank

 Point blank

Mounting a vocano April 6, 2024

  

You can’t mount a mountain

 like you can a volcano,

 each step up one risks

 a perilous fall,

 up the other scalding fingers,

blistering where they grip,

even though the landscape

 is much softer,

yielding as I press myself

 against it.

This is where mountain goats

go to rut;

 I am a goat in sheep’s clothing,

 wishing I was a wolf,

 aching to feel the vibrations

beneath me or as I climb,

stirred up in part by where I am

what I touch,

 a firm grip,

 a tender grip,

 taking me higher

 and deeper

 with each risky step

unaware of where I am,

on what (or whom) I have mounted,

 mountain or volcano

until the fumes appear

the heat to loosen my grip,

I do not know which

 until I feel the whole thing

begin to erupt

 by which time

it’s too late to stop.

 

 2024 journal menu

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Summer time ain’t easy either May 22, 2012

 “Summer time and the living is easy,”

Only it ain’t, especially if you

Can’t stop and smell the roses,

Poor kids on rusted swings

In the church yard next door,

More free in their simply way

Than the hustlers and bustlers

With heads full of schemes,

If only I could rush out

And feel clean air again,

Cool or hot,

Breathe free when we

Spend our lives desperate

For something to happen;

It never does,

We all live school kids lives

Waiting for the school doors

To open and let us loose

Not to return until

After Labor Day,

I want to live my life

Over again

And I suspect you

Do, too,

Only we’ve both

Forgotten how.

 

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Is it like I remember it? (2014)

 

 What do we imagine

When we close our eyes

And must rely on

Other senses

And our memory

Of what we saw

If it is still there,

Touching the surface

To feel if it still

Feels warm or soft

And does it still vibrate,

Does it taste

As good as I recall,

When my eyes

Still deceived me.

Does she smell as sweet

Or is she so

Out of reach

We can’t feel

Or smell or taste

What we once did,

And linger in that

Surrealistic landscape

Of an untrustworthy

Memory,

Of touching

And being touched,

Of loving

And being loved

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Inside you (2014)

  

I need to climb inside you,

The way you do a shell,

To look out of your eyes

To taste what you taste

With your tongue

I need to feel out it feels

When I touch your breast

Kiss your nipples

Plunge deep into your abyss

I need to fell what it feels like

To have me kiss you,

To know from inside out,

If you feel the way I do,

I need to wrap myself up

inside your skin

To love what you love

To take warmth from my body

When pressed against your,

Sharing sweat that can only be

Created by rubbing together,

I need to hear what you hear

To know you’ll believe

When I say “love.”

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The smell of the sea Oct. 24, 2026

 

 

I still smell the scent of the sea on her, that summer when she got back from the shore, sundress and sun glasses, reflecting those night over that lost weekend in the room of the hotel with gold trim, and I ask myself, do I think all girls are bad, meaning do they sleep over with whomever they choose, while men like me crave love and must trust to luck, her and the sea always drawn together in my brain, even now, even all these years later when she is not the same person she was back then, having given up her beach towel for something infinitely more substantial, even though I still see her in the lobby of our office, hair back, her face mostly hidden by over-sized sunglasses, which reflect my intense desire to be with her at the sea.

 

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