I spend a lot of time
watching her watch the world
through the big picture window

She seldom ever touches her phone

Yesterday she said
“Have you ever been in love?
and heaven is reflected in his sky blue eyes.”

She sipped something acrid
“It’s like your heart is like a shooting star
cutting across a blood red twilight.
And I feel so light . . .
sensuous in falling.”

I wanted to tell her. . .

She said
no idea of rhyme or reason,
only Love.”

Silent Undertaking

I have devoted my life to the study of Silences

While it may be true that we are a speaking species
Every good playwright
Every good composer
Every good architect
knows the value of using silences
Silences that can carve a volume out of solid stone walls
Silences that can paint a room in ambers or greys

There is the cold aching of the silence between the stars

There are grey silences
The silence of the room after the other has left
The silence of a room where they will never come again

There are choking silences
when your mouth is so full of love it can’t let your heart out
When there just aren’t words enough . . .
And you would give anything to break that silence

There are warm glowing silences
When you can sit back to back and read the Sunday paper
And pass funnies . . .
Quiet laughing

There are silences
When you just look at the warm glow of her
And no words are necessary
As the presence of her fills your every sense


She pulls her cardigan closer
A warm hug made from the finest wool of Ireland
A Christmas present from the past
She hears the surf crashing on the boulders by the sea

They say she was lovely once
Dark, long hair the color of a stormy night sky
Clear, bright eyes the color of children’s laughter
A fierce beauty that commanded magics and aspects. . .
She does not move her hands
She does not soothe the waves
Nor change the clouds . . .

She watches as sea-foam horses thunder
Rumble and scream as they crash into the rocks and sand
Shaking their heads in a kind of disbelief

She was not always gentle
She was not always alone
And she danced with the gods
And god, that man could dance. . .

Where have the young men gone?
Did they crash into the rocks and shore?
New heroes being forged of water
even as the old ones are crushed?

Now she has the ocean
Now she has time
She pulls her cardigan closer

Her untamed heart thunders
As it crashes like a crazed mare
Shaking its heads in a kind of disbelief

His house was fragrant
As they burnt evenings made of straw
Warded with holly and mistletoe

She steps down to the beach
Her walking stick draws signs in the sand
She does not soothe the waves
Nor change the clouds . . .
The ocean will wash her calligraphy away at high tide
But no allotment of time will erase. . .

She cries a smile-tear while the sea-foam horses thunder
Crashing into the rocks and sand
Naked and untamed . . . Eternal

Shadow Days

Shadow days
not quite day
not quite night

I want to really see and feel the moist grey
The lost sun
The sorrowful wind
in full measure
Because in weather like this
something about the impossibility of me
is awakened

I am
because I fight
and on days like this when the sky forgets me
in its deluge of lamentation

On shadow days like this
I most feel the fight in me