I will convert,
for you,
twenty seven times over
in order to spin Earth’s axis
back to it’s original
position.
My secret haven,
original,
right,
cool to the touch
skin on skin
and I believe again
that I can win
when my feet are tired
two at a time
again
I wish it was you
holding the umbrella in the rain,
to kiss me goodnight
under some station light
I knew had flickered out
yesterday.
September 24, 2014
The reason I know
what lies behind the velvet curtain
is that I have been there before:
horses in a stable,
easing back their heels
to embrace the swelling sun,
their own bright eye;
a set of doubled doors
leading to nowhere–––
to everywhere in the life of a man
remembering what it was like
to be a child, to fall in love,
to laugh at those like myself
foals in a busy world of emotion,
keeping kosher and drinking tea
for long hours into the night
imagining what it was like
before we swept the curtain away.
June 16, 2014
So here you are
on this broken ground,
and you don’t know
which way to turn–
questions upon flower beds
upon your neighbor’s half
opened picket gate that is,
perhaps, meant to be half-way–
perhaps this is the way.
Sink into the ground, feet firm,
and know your presence,
pen and patience as your guide,
miracles blossoming in a moment
and more than anything we are
brothers within our deepest fears,
our fondest loves, the passion
that remains ready, hunched up
inside us all, asking
to call out, “I am ready.”
July 20, 2014
