Five Poems from "Sonnet"

Echos Down the Hall
she imagines a story
from minutia to another
who spins it out again
thus the spider drains the fly
worn from the struggle
and loss of support
I once again pick up
the scraps of my life
and start to sew
she pricks her finger
and watches the blood
form a red bead
she thinks as in a dream
of moving but can’t
yet does anyway
she winks and wakes
as if by a lover’s kiss
to a world already here
and of course
he had heard
it all before
the stock lines
falling from lips
he longed to kiss
so what the words
meant escaped
unchanged by context
falling between them
like bricks to a wall

from “Sonnet,” (work in progress, line 9, syllables 6-10)

(February 2012)

Ten Poems from "Sonnet," line Seven

what’s missing he thinks is what’s wrong
tell me what’s there to work with she asks
both see the same flower before them
neither see the same flower before them
it is the glass which frames the problem
with one step
we cross a border
such a brave new world
traveling all night from Nice to Rome
we stepped sleepily into the city street
dazzled by the morning sun
and the speed of the foreign tongue
we were suddenly surrounded
then robbed by gypsy children
what gets taken
each time I see you
whatever vague thoughts
trouble my heart
only to return
as you depart
the frame of the door
the walls of this room
the language one uses
define a space that is
non-existent on its own
an absence 
an opening
a new thought 
a word
there is an art to hiding
in the open to exposing
yourself while you maintain
your sense of self
to move like waves of wind
across a field of wheat
one must let go of the earth
and dance with the air
he holds the brush
before the canvas
lost in thought
where to from here
one step
then another
is a process
there is no end
the door closes slowly
I stand
afraid of my choices
where are you now
it’s cold outside
fear weaves
like frost

(January 2012)

Two Poems, from "Sonnet"

we bend
back to
without time

the rose
a bud
near the garden
a hint of roses
edges toward me
a presence
on the periphery
like a trace
of laughter
she has left
the room

from “Sonnet”, (work in progress, line six, syllables 9 and 10)

(January 2012)


a scar traces a line
across his patched heart
like a dymaxion map
of the world unfolding
an unrealistic
of his love
in order to expose
the all that is not there

from “Sonnet,” (work in progress, second Quatrain, sixth line, second syllable)

(January 2012)


my vision is limited
I see what is nearby
the distance mere shapes
and vague shadows
I see you in front of me
your smile and your eyes
where I go next
shifts away
from “Sonnet,” (work in progress, line 4, syllable 8)
(January 2012)

from "Sonnet," (work in progress, third line)

memory is creative
filling in between
the shadow and the light
something new between
what is thought
and what is seen
– –
on the cusp
of when
– –
such naïve terms:
still I wake
into a new sun
to wrestle my crystalline fears
with love and hope
for they shield
my metaphorical heart
as I naively long
to see
her eyes come
for me
– –
so many unspoken words
(like limits of secret pacts
these borders we cannot cross
without learning  new language)
to speak to one another
– –
To find water at a stop in the alps
I jumped off the train
going from Vienna to Venice.
Lisa called to hurry,
flakes sparkled the night like stars;
I danced with snow for the second time.
– –
then there
you are
the familiar
– –
the air forms to your body
without effort
I breathe you in
– –
not so much a matter of will,
as it’s a matter of will not.
– –
a rose unfolds despite its beauty;
the weed despite our disdain:
he longs and obsesses
as easily as she coyly
plays with her hair
while laughing at him
– –
(December 2011)

Me and Lisa, 1979

among the crepe myrtle

and spring flowers
of austin’s japanese garden
we would feast
on canned smoked oysters
cheap wine and each other
from “Sonnet” (work in progress, 2nd line, syllable 7)

(December 2011)

The Year Mom Died

i sat in silence
as she slept
her breathing so low
I would bend my ear
down to listen
to air
from “Sonnet” (work in progress, sixth syllable)
(December 2011)

High School Crush

she comes into his class
and sits near by
it doesn’t matter
how hard he tries
to pretend a cool
what he wants to say
falls away
again into memory
yet even now repeats
as her brown eyes
befuddle his speech
the complexity
of simple words
troubles each step
he takes
not being a dancer
he worries
the least shift
in the rhythm
as if meaning
can be deciphered
from the day
to day inflections
or her intent
without a context
(December 2011)

Explanatory Note

i find it somewhat difficult
to speak, so stutter about
and mutter over chatter
as if it really mattered
my secrets unfold between
the mottled shadows pulsing
on this wall like the words
whispered beneath the noise
of all the voices I have heard
so listen closely to my heart
and trust that what I say
is true despite the layers
within these lines which hide
what I would speak to you
(September 2011)