September 2, 2014


Summer's over,
Labor Day looms,
kids are heading
back to school.
I want to tell them
it's all a trick,
but let it go,
watching them slowly 
cross the street,
they've got other things
on their minds.

At night there's
silence in the stars,
so far apart,
each one twinkling,
making its own
space and time, forever 
and ever doing its job, 
keeping us guessing
as they shine.

Down here
we're still
spinning, reeling,
feeling each other
in the dark,
looking for clues
of any kind.

August 29, 2014

Out of Sight

I always hear
your alarm,
never awaken
to my own.
You think I need
something new,
louder, better able
to wake me 
from deepest sleep,
so I might 
share my secret
with those I love,
keep me from
falling back alone 
into endless night,
while you 
and the world
we know,
slip forever
out of sight.

August 26, 2014


When I call,
my rings go unanswered.
I know you like
being alone,
having perfected 
your own way
of ignoring the phone.
Just like you never
hear my knock
on your door, 
leave messages 
forever unopened,
you've become good
at pretending
you're not really there,
until I've grown used 
to your absence,
knowing no matter
where you are,
you're not with me.
Even when I sip
your drink
from the untouched cup,
you're not where
you said you'd be.

August 22, 2014


I asked your father
for your hand,
you flowed in and out 
of my dreams.
How could he just
give you away?
Perhaps we were not
what we seemed.
You said Yes when I popped
the question, then I Do,
in a ceremony
flush with sacrifice
and surrender,
sealed with a kiss
and golden rings.
Women wept
as we promised
one another.

We awakened naked
in a perfect garden,
where we wandered 
dazed and forgotten, 
until one day,
we were banished, 

I barely remember
the taste of apple, 
when we were still
so unspoiled,

August 19, 2014


Some say the dead 
are always waiting,
watching us 
with infinite patience, 
waning when we grow ill,
waxing, when we prevail.

They will be
rewarded soon;
we've traveled so far
to be with them this time,
hearing their long-lost voices
carried on the wind
as we approach, beneath 
a bloodless moon.

August 15, 2014


At first we noticed
how quiet it is,
how everyone eventually
goes away. 
Then we saw 
we couldn't leave;
when we couldn't
get out of
our front yard,
it looked like
we would stay.  

There's a crew
to cut the grass,
more guests arriving
every day.  Sprinklers
go on and off by themselves,
no one ever 
has much to say.

We've never regretted
coming here, though
we're not sure
why we came.
Except for the fact
we can't leave,
everything else seems 
just the same.