Yet I have slept with beauty
in my own weird way
and I have made a hungry scene or two
with beauty in my bed
and so spilled out another poem or two
and so spilled out another poem or two
upon the Bosch-like world.


It was like this when
we waltz into this place
a couple of Papish cats
is doing an Aztec two-step
And I says
Dad let's cut
but then this dame
comes up behind me see
and says
You and me could really exist
Wow I says
Only the next day
she has bad teeth
and really hates

Hanging out at Caffe Trieste today and who's sitting across from me but Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

Tomorrow The Sunset

Today a little more than a few hours
a few more than last time
a morning feast near the white house
nestled in the woods and today
we go up until we reach the top.

But first, here is where my body
starts to ache, and here is where
I rest, and here is where my heart
explodes, and to the left we will
find the top of the world, where I will
find you, today and everyday.

All the land between here and there
those three islands, those two bridges,
that ship, my embrace, my kiss, my smile,
my laugh, may I humbly give to you
these are yours today and everyday.

A little more coffee and a few more roses
in a garden locked by a magic gate
unlocked with a secret knock and when
we return may all the roses bloom
to greet you. These roses are yours too.

When at last we must part I only wish
to extend your kiss one more stop to feel
the soft touch of your lips, the promise of
tomorrow the sunset and everyday thereafter.

Our last day is tomorrow

Our last day is tomorrow

Our last day is tomorrow
how does one express deep sadness
darkness, emptiness, the two inches of tingle
that surround my neck and my fingers and hips
anticipation that all I can cling to
are visions of your face and smile
visions that are unclear, afraid to lose even that.
Not a photo, not an inch of cloth, not a strand of hair
Nothing to hold on to, nothing clear.

I'm afraid my memory will fail me
of how it feels to grasp your hand
embrace you with every inch of my skin
remembering each contour and movement
our dance that day, and the spot kissed by your mother
no one else will find or I hope someone does.
You are not mine and I can not have you
and even my memories of you are not only for me
if only I can have one more hour,
one more hour and the next thousand years.

Stay for Every Step

Stay for Every Step

I trace the lines of your smile
from too few memories
I wish I had more to give.

And each hill I climb I pass
wildflowers of violet, gold, and ruby
maddeningly picking each flower
and saving every petal
There are no more flowers
none feel like you.

Those times I'm surrounded by water
hearing only my heart beat
I may also hear your voice
drowning in the brown pools of your eyes
there's no more time left.

At the top of the largest ferris wheel
overlooking the world
I call your name and you can not hear me
I can not find you anywhere.
Were you ever with me or did I dream

Stay for every breath until my last
Stay for every step and every ache
until my heart explodes, until each hair
is grey. Your memory pushes me further
how strong so few moments are.
But I have known you forever.

the star

There was a star that night
did you see it, the brightest one
in the sky.

It sparkles only in the Summer sky
and as I looked I wondered
if you saw it too.

Did you hear the song from the songbird
that night. Did the wind carry it to you,
or my whisper
a crazy man talking to himself
no you heard me twenty miles away.
You felt me shiver and you wanted to keep
me warm.

How many more Summer nights must we spend
apart, how many more will we see
with a million stars dancing away
too hot for blankets, just a sheet will do.

Smile Back

You smile and I wonder why
I'm smiling too
You are just smiling back.

I can't help it
and neither can you.
I can not help but smile.
But why.

It's not how your face glows,
the feel of your skin,
the embrace of your fingers,
the smell of your perfume,
the song from your lips,
nor the touch from them
oh how soft your lips can be.

I smile and you smile back
the languages you speak
it's too many how could
you ever choose me.

I smile and you smile back
you know as I do
how happy I am to be with you.

Still Life

Still Life

I paint your smile
on a canvas that forgets
that you are not mine
and I cannot have you.

My dear cherry blossom
the earth shifts you
closer to the sun
and bees wait
for your command.

Each passing day,
I see you resting on the sand
I shall not wake you
Let the waves crash upon the shore
and the water tickle your feet.
The ocean loves you
embracing your hands
fullness of breath
there is no one else here.

the color of your skin

the color of your skin

I miss the color of your skin
next to mine, how we blend
together, bleed into each other
making a single portrait.

How your voice sings and catches
my deeper tones, an immediate
poem and song through
our words.

And as we attack the world
your gaze and my smile
each flower opens up
a brighter sun warms us
and the wind keeps us cooler than most.

And as we hold hands,
you can not tell which one is yours
except for your shorter finger
and my weathered grip.

But your skin, sweet like caramel
soft like fresh wool,
the sun and the moon fight
to shine their light on you.

Across the Ocean

Across the Ocean

Have you seen me in your dreams
in your memory, that time
when you and I were the only
two people left.
It was time to go you said
I could have stayed forever.

Where are you from,
I know you from somewhere,
We could not have just met
four hundred years ago
twenty years from yesterday
I touch your lips
and still you tell me to leave.

How can I not love your eyes
that let me look across the ocean
I was there with you then
you have seen me before.
My fingers across your skin
barely touching you
holding you like a flower holds a branch.
This time you stay, you said.
From the moment we met,
I never left.



One day, there will be more somedays.
The somedays when the sun kisses your skin
the cherry blossoms shade your path
and all the world hears my heart beat
with the anticipation of Spring.

The somedays when the bronze lion and heroes glisten
flowers even those that don't usually bloom greet us
in orange and violet and red and pink and blue
a park bench in the middle of the world and an embrace
of rough hands strolling through a park.

The somedays with the blackest coffee or one spiked
with chocolates and almonds,
just enough dessert where old photos smile at us
the right amount of smiles and the right amount of laughter.

The somedays when the stories unfold of fathers and mothers,
how bees carry honey and the burdens of butterflies
whose song fades in the air where we both hear that
one day, there will be more somedays.