I know that the moon
and the flame on the candle
that dances in my breath
I know the inky cat staring me down
And the song I think of
That comes on the radio unexpectedly
These things don't mean that
You
Are
Waiting

But I know you are, I
See your shadow where
I've just looked
I see your silhouette behind
My closed eyes.

Yes, my love, I see your
coming in the eyes of the
Men I dally with now
And when you come to
Claim me, I'll be
Warm
And ready.

i can't

i can't admit even
to myself how you came
to inhabit that empty spot within
how even now when i
look inward, i see
you

i can't erase your scent
from my senses, your
touch from my memory

you took me further
than i'd gone before and
now i can't go back

i can't say any of this
to you, i can't break
the barrier i put up
but i can't move on

i know, i've tried but
he wasn't you.

alliterative angst

wallow and whine
wallow and whine
swallow and
I'll be fine

swallow the wine
swallow the whine
when will we
be fine?

wallow and wade
wallop and wail
whine winge
why
not.

gravity-weighted

across meadows
and tarmac she crept,
tied fast to the
relentless earth, shaded
by trees and skyscrapers,
bruised by the rocks she
trod upon, shins
lumped with
calcium from
being barked upon
so many benches and
curbs.

Her face was burned,
Neck stiff,
feet blistered.

Though she stumbled
often in her
heedlessness, she
never
never
looked down, never
once glanced away
from her lovers
boiling
yellow eye.

her destiny awaited.

all her days she trod on
seeking only a kiss
from the sky.

I, lesser mortal, tarried
near a tree with a
soldier, saw her pass by.
Deep inside, ashamed,
I felt faithless, and burned
as well for the
benediction of a kiss.

My soldier...
did not comply.

witchery

Soon the fire of
Self denial will
Burn down to
Ashes of tenacity.
Then I will have to
Burn candles
Throw salt
Draw on the strength
Of my familiar
And deep earth truth
To steady my hand
And not write your
Name.

what women know

(Usual caveat: no poem worth its salt is ever about only one person. Well, that's a lie, but this one isn't.)

You think it's the size,
The thrusting hard thighs,
That makes her moan
When you two are alone.

Caught up in your myth,
Your physical gift,
Only from skin and out
Is what it's about.

You're wrong, but then,
Like most men,
You cannot fathom how it can be
Erogenous to see
Vulnerability

You can't see the rest
Beneath her peaked breast,
For who thinks of emotion
With bodies in motion?

So she came to your bed
With sex in her head.
But why was it you she chose
When she wanted to take off her clothes?

My friend, what put her there
Was not just your hair,
Your hypnotic eyes,
Or your tumnescent prize

No--your pain and your need,
Weakness, and greed,
Your adolescent love of toys,
Your need to make noise.

The way you love your mother,
How you always need another.
Your talking and singing,
Are what keep her stringing
Along in your wake,
Expecting heartbreak,
But alive at your touch
Saying little, feeling much.

So bodies meet in a sacred communion
And sparks fly from your needs' union.

quark

You don't know you are magic.
Your insistence on science and dirt
Makes my teeth gnash.

Your essence rings the room large
Like a balloon in honey, sweet and
Orange and sticking to everything

And still, you keep your prosaic eyes
Down and insist on sinew and bone
And cellular degeneration.

What quark expresses your charisma?
What effect does the burning whisky have
On your spirit?

That was a trick, because whisky is magic
too.