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Board me quickly; cast to sea;
leave this grieving shoreline.
How welcome this exile.
Never again to pass where I watched
still wearing your scent,
your touch, all made doubly absent
by strangers’ ignorant sobs.

No one saw; my mourning days unwritten,
these waiting days left
on quite roadsides, wondering
if indeed I would last
forever, how long named by
past-tense love,
wishing us present, wishing again
to read your mind as only
one soul allows.

Abide with me.
Remain with me.
My wisdom, yes, but more my plea –
my heart’s great cry.
I ran to those you love,
gave them all I knew,
searching their beauty, their glory
for any piece for every piece of you,
hoping my feet once more would carry
me faster and this time find you waiting.

I miss your words.
Replaying them in my head, I cling to comfort
as your voice becomes more ink than breath.
And here I wait again, each
slapping wave releasing me from these remembered places,
washing my feet once more;
the ghost-less sea leading
me in unexpected kindness to
my laying bare.

Light and love are my embankment;
even here they shield and secure me,
holding me until in thrilling
delirium I feast on this glimpse.
Across the adoring multitude:
my friend.
And I forget even the future,
beholding the beloved,
knowing that against you again I’ll recline.

please come.

I’ve been trying to get this one out for more than a year, but it wouldn’t let go.  Turned out there were some things I just didn’t know enough to write yet.  After a little more waiting (and working and listening), I think we found a point that we’re happy with.  I’m excited it’s here now.  Hope you enjoy.


I sit with you, for
you desire my abiding
and my trust that in
you there is time enough.
In your hand there is time eternal and
over all things
you are
over all things
So I give to you what only
you can give:
breath and life and time.
You have all
you want of
everything but me.

How nice that you would say
like a greeting card thoughtfully
chosen from a massive
wall of sentiment that
I am acceptable and my
company pleasant.
How nice to be among the
millions for whom those
words were scripted and
polished, made emphatic
with gilding and glossy picture.

I smiled and moved
to tuck it away, secure and
harmless in its casing, crisp
and white, protecting the
perfect corners and
mannequin words, almost missing
the note inside, overlooked
in knowing all you had to say.

I took it barely, just the edge, its
substance creased and
softened to cloth by
years carried in your pocket.
I read it twice,
as if my eyes were unsure
of themselves when confronted
with penned words, their stark,
chosen reality, the move of
each like DNA,
your undeniable imprint.

I saw then, the lines of
ink gone easy with age, long
enough for you to know me
and still mean them; I read
again and believed. I came apart.

My heart drops in my chest
at that cry from nowhere,
as if the ground might open
or this friend, despite his age,
might uproot and, with heavy,
echoing steps, shaking off the moss
and casual growth of ferns,
set out to do what I haven’t,
holding forth his suppressed voice
like the echo of an explosion,
and join the groaning chorus
that puts me to shame. 


Let me walk out of this place,
run if I have to,
hiding in your darkness.
Cover my ears to block the wailing;
that smell, still pungent and unmistakable
as I cross the threshold into sky.
(I’m one of the stars, you know.)
Throw what you can on my back
made broad and strong for this
(four hundred years will do that);
take my hand and all that
your trembling arms will hold.
Not an eye or a thought is on us tonight.
Walk quickly ahead and believe
when I say
this is free.

How many hours have you
let me think you didn’t see me
blinding yourself in love from
the eyeing I could never stand.

How many days have I survived
mostly, surely by my ignorance
and grateful now for it
for what I didn’t see you see.

How many lives have I spent
concealed in your view and
eager for you to pretend me alone
for your consent to my hiding game.

How many more times around the sun, knowing
it’s only time
until I’ll let you tell me
I’ve been found.

This wasteful thing
my wasted life
such wasted love

Nothing to show-
glory or triumph;
riches or praise.
Just what’s left of me.
poured out
barely recognizable from before,
when I was strong and potential
fierce, beautiful, and compelling.
Now I am without.

spent and at rest;
I will waste myself.

          How are you this free?
          Unbound and untouched,
          with gravity’s lightness.
          No clasped hand to hold
          something precious,
          moving like you’re nothing.
          What’s that in your eye
          in your hand
          on your lips
          that you drop off so casually,
          as if you have endless supply?
          Why, so weightless, does your
          vanishing remain on me
          like lead
          pulling me to earth?
          While you slip free.

Because I love something else;
wasted and gave myself away.

With that sound I stopped
like a seal in water,
the turns and twists
stilled, suspended
in a moment,
considering how it came to this place.
How far left to swim.
 I looked at your face and thought I
might know you,
once had a conversation,
yelling a little over the din of a crowd
to be heard. I would have offered
a cordial greeting
and an assurance to keep in touch.
 But I never thought I’d see you here;
You would speak
and remember me. So I was shocked
to hear my name,
see it formed on your lips with such ease
as if you’d given it to me.
I looked at your face again, remembering
and wondering if maybe
we should talk some more.

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