Monday, January 23, 2017


Early Morning

And in the early morning if there is no friend again
And if the sky is still wearing her blue-black face
Hiding all those stars with the moon behind her skirt
I at least have poems to read
Books and books of them
Each a certain form of sustenance itself
So much so that when I finish
Reading a half-dozen or more
I can scarcely think about breakfast
And those fish outside the window in the lake
And that beaver in the lake too
And the eagle flying high overhead
They all know what I’ve just learned
That sometimes
When we are most alone and scared
There are places to go
Words to seek like medicine
That can fill our hollow spaces
And heal wounds we thought
We’d wear forever


What I Miss Most

The body is known to lie
Shoulder a burden behind a cloak
Or downy bed of clover
Yet we know what we know
How the skin is a map of inclusion
The bones a ladder of dimpled steps
Each one leading to an attic or trapdoor
Even in the darkest darkness I can find my way
Through every room of yours
Yet it is your sweetest kiss
That you keep hidden
Tucked away for yourself
Or someone else
Perhaps I could be your locket or lipstick
And brush against your skin
By accident or not
Me this thing you wear or carry
Without effort
Without knowing I’m even there 
Though I most certainly am


Even in the Blur

I have been there, too,
Ankles caught in seaweed and muck
Out of breath
All those feet under water
Pressure crushing lungs
No way out but death
But if you open your eyes
Even in the blur
You’ll see me there
Holding out my hand
Asking you to take it


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