The ghosts in his forest sift

between the bramble, collect

momentarily in clearings,

and compare notes on their

unconsummated affairs.

His apparition slips along

her edges, begging the margins

she ignores. Annotations,

without context, entangle

his thoughts, growing a life

of their own, a meaning

of their own, as blooms

of moss on the forest floor

disguise the broken trees

in a green effulgence.

He tries to trace her designs

within her fractured words.

Each turn he takes leads away

form yet another possible exegesis;

until, he falls into a clarity

forever uncertain and voiceless.p

(May 5, 2019)


a turn toward the other

whether in body or spirit

a turn toward some other

than myself to complete myself

a turn toward the other

like the horizon turns east

always seeking after light

a newer day to exult in

the earth’s curve the curve

of your breast silhouetted

in dawn’s light slipping

through our bedroom window

I turn to you from the dark

seeking your warmth in turn

(April 15, 2019)