thoughts to conquer doubt

and for this poem
let me briefly state the truth:
love is not hate disguised,
not merely a passion put to use,
or the redemption of a lonely soul.
No, it is the point of all the battle-wit and grief,
else pain's foil were not so sharp;
It is the purpose of our measured days,
for we need it like drowning men
crave air.
The word is beaten, formed and molded for
unsterling uses, but LOVE is not
anybody's plaything or a dog to call to heel-
it is untarnishable, untameable, unconjurable and deep.
As blood would not be red without iron,
so the vibrancy of love depends, not on
fate or chance or beauty,
but on the health of the soul.
For whoever trys to master love deceives himself:
Love only enters in the clothing
of
a
servant

for Kasey B.

there is sorrow in the night sky tonight
& i feel you are lost to me.
it should not be so, first
because you are human & in pain,
and next because I am only 238855 miles
from the moon
& so are you.
there is sorrow in the night sky tonight,
& i wish you very close to me
for there is peace in my bed -
also books & sand & a purring cat,
but mostly peace.

oh my hippie-flower child, bewildered & beleaguered by the immense sorrows & immense beauties of life, do not be lost to me. We're 23 million miles from Venus, yet she will guide the morning to earth's doorstep. Do not be afraid, even if the circle breaks & the bird dies & the house burns cold. Do not be afraid.

It will not mean the end of love.

kid sister

sixteen stoplights & a sunset on the windshield
sixteen songs & the cadence of the wind
sixteen streetsigns crooked at the crossings
sixteen summers she's been in love with him

it's no use counting, no use at all
she doesn't see him stumble or hear him fall
she's his stars & sun, breath & bone
but he worships afar & sleeps alone

what's the game here, sister, it doesn't seem fair
what's the deal here, brother, some sort of dare -
it's driving me crazy down this long dark road
nobody's gettin' the love that they're owed

You Came, Too - Nikki Giovanni

I came to the crowd seeking friends
I came to the crowd seeking love
I came to the crowd for understanding


I found you


I came to the crowd to weep
I came to the crowd to laugh


You dried my tears
You shared my happiness


I went from the crowd seeking you
I went from the crowd seeking me
I went from the crowd forever


You came, too

That Sort of THing

The space between your look
And the words written in your notebook
(the green spiralbound the color of spring and newlove)
Made my heart pause, and then go bounding away
Over the hills,
Fears breaking like ice melting like birds nesting like fresh butter and windy runs, like your hands.
Large hands, capable of blacking both my eyes and my heart. Be careful where you place those hands, because
I might just leap over and take one with me
down to the daffodils and riverwater,
and
I don’t
think you’re wearing quite
the right
shoes
for that sort of thing.

Ship's Log

5:00 Wake up & remember how to climb out of bed.

8:00 Drive through Adrinxley, Foglesworth, Horington - stop in Brunswick for coffee.

11:21 Fight jealousy as you read his name in the Wall Street Journal

4:30 Walk away from the computer and rest the optic nerves.

5:30 Drive through Brunswick, Horington, Floglesworth - stop in Adrinxley for groceries.

6:oo Cross the threshold into your arms. Undone by gratitude for life. We make dinner. Gratitude. My life.

A Cord of 3

my sister, younger:
how can i describe you? you are like:
a five year old's first rainbow-sprinkle ice cream - a matchless marvel;
a morning glory stumbled over while fetching the early morning news;
a May afternoon that tastes of June and sounds like the splash of bare feet in Six Mile Creek.
a penny, heads-up;
a rainy day pancake;
a new pair of white shoes;
a porch swing in summer;
applecake with raisins
and a whole album of Grandma's wedding pictures.


my mother, wiser:
with your hands you weild both sword
& spatula;
you know what feeds the soul
& artfully prepare what delights the tongue.
your love is flavorful & spontaneous,
like goat cheese and mango chutney;
you are delicate and perfect,
like the halo of rice crackers encircling the plate.
may your day be filled with Glory,
fresh baked Bread of Life;
and also with glory,
fresh pineapple &
the smile of a friend.

my true-love, hiding:
the water of life flows through you,
out your eyes (color of the spring-new earth);
from your hands, free and open
like the fragrance of hyacinth--vital effusion.
rising & outflowing from between the petals of your lips;
your voice has the power of awakening
all the tender, increscent joys
that thirst within me.
Be strong as the sun rises,
and stronger yet when it sets.