Prayerless

Prayerless      

                               

my hands tremble

afternoon light teases the oregano

in the kitchen window 

something survives here anyway

as I disintegrate with random entropy

my fault my fault my

fault lines shift silent tears

run down her cheeks eyes hard

my fault my fault my child

core of my being shivering

begging to fall into a black hole

in her pajamas my baby my life

creation of my XX, your flawed XY

on the edge of our familial singularity

no logarithm can save us from

this spiral no blessing no

prayer of Fibonacci numbers

chanted in sacred precision

null set sunshine nothing no

thing left but cuban oregano

claiming the light

Hurricane Dreams

Hurricane Dreams

One

this evening as night

surrounds the bay like a familiar

stars describe the sky    luminous

the moon, there is a sanctuary

in this dark where time is something

I can hold in my hand

wind takes the curtains

in a graceful gesture

silence sweeps the balcony

as I wait, clouds rush the beach

roaring

Two

I am lost to the depth

of my need for you    your hands

the small of my back as we dance

a fugue encircles my bed with violins

ask anything    call my name

under your breath as you fuck me

hard against the white linen sheets

Three

the fury raging tempest in her eyes

only a small confrontation

in comparison    with the hurricane

to come

Four

there is no balance, no courting

a storm swift approaching

wind rips the cypress now left

then right in its confusion

Five

stucco buildings in sun

your smooth voice, your hands

come to me in summer, high

heat    slow arousal of the mind

an open window on the bay

the luxury of a balcony and

champagne at sunset

you in my life    slow

perpetual like roses bloom

in a sheltered garden

Six

if the storm breaks free, if we

survive this length of night

she will disappear with her

cloud filled eyes and seaweed hair

the beach littered

with fragments of the past

dead things we can sweep away

like so much sand

on the blue kitchen tiles

Lagrimas Del Mar

Lagrimas Del Mar

lightening, apprehension of thunder

conch shells, coins, three bells

a patio overlooks the Caribbean

palms shiver in a constant wind

the speed of sundown, the length

of a caress, red flamboyan

sheltering the small white house

your arms around my sleep

a rainstorm sweeps the mountains

at twilight

on the edge waiting, earthquakes

at Easter a new tide

rises along an ancient shore    

two emeralds, three sapphires,  pearls

they call tears

saints in the caves, fresh water, 

rain silvering the screens

a simpler theory

of beauty unbraids her dark hair

slowly, waterfalls in the jungle

mimosa and hibiscus scent the air

the heat of your breath

on the nape of my neck

sand on the patio tiles, sand

in bed, the salt taste of you

mist at evening

nights on the beach

we find pearls, luminous

in the tropical moonlight

Tropical Ghazal

Tropical Ghazal

imagine I kiss you with empty hands,

while a possible horizon meets the sea.

moments beyond touch, the elements suffuse,

entwine and are lost in each other.

if the sun, then I might,

lush tropicals press the wind wanting you.

slowly rocked by the nature of the sea,

I dream of you coming to me at midnight.

one line spells itself across the horizon,

push, push into the sea of me.

My Only Love

My Only Love

           Even now you're gone you'll always be

                        My only love   Roxy Music

One

do you wonder what I do

alone    in this house

you picture me    waiting

like a widow in the dark

night no softer lover

could I call    you

at midnight    alone

in the narrow beds of our twenties

this is so much to ask

so much is expected

I see the room, white windows

toward the bay blue ocean

where I stand    asking

to step beyond this moment

I drink champagne

on the balcony    my desire

a leaf unfolding

in this I wait    I have forgotten

the feel of your hands    remember

only the scream as the hurricane

swept the bay there is no turning

from a hand closed against you

how quiet the night    how long

till I hear you    how far

must we go to be together

Two

in this silence absence taunts me

only the cats remain dreaming

I lay the table with lace

another silent house    funny

how I never told you I

never took you one place

I hadn’t been with another lover

I think I liked the repetition

the irony of standing

on the concrete dock with you

where I’d kissed my lover

on the lips on the dock

at exactly the same hour of twilight

alone    night engulfs me

I want something to take me

lift me into the silence of breath

of the dark    if I said

I would lay down with you

would I know

who I let go to

would your hands

name you

December on The Chesapeake Bay

 December on The Chesapeake Bay

this is such a place of wanting

of lips that trace your spine

relentless    desire pressed to the dark

as the chadored earth rises to her lover sky

you loved me, like a miracle

something like breath    held

lost to the depth of me, your hands

like Mozart engulf

the flutter of leaves your eyes

holding me like more than hands

the exercise of being taken

over to the core

tiny bells in wind    the bay

in winter, your hands sure

my heart in your eyes

a profusion of birds

an epiphany of piano is too simple

to trace your outline

on my body, your scent

sheets, towels    the daily

waking at the sound of your name

driven over the dunes

fast wind    sail

steady

Going Places, Fast

Going Places, Fast

if the paper is pink

that would be pleasing.

let the phone ring three times

before you answer against

the vacuum of hello  even when it

might be required or at least

thoughtful, offer a stranger a clean glass

to drink from this is usually considered

polite Tchiakovsky should have

thought of this Ken Russell said

maybe you should be selfish 

at this time in your life the exotic

was never plentiful in the northeast

a geographic problem

not easily solved

so, move or something

it’s not as new as you’re pretending

when you are moved to tears

is that truth or good cinematography?

why do I keep insisting

this is a B-movie?  is there any truth

to that rumor? I dreamed we

went to the Feast of St. Joseph

and ate zeppole

it was a tease for the two women

concerned. pastry all  fluffy

shells white creamy filling

oozing sticking to my lips I

licked it off in public

it’s the thing to do you know

why I even see them in cafes together

eating from each other’s plates

without stares. so you see

offer her your glass to drink from

in Europe this is especially done

move there, if only in dreams or

go there a plane ticket away

terminals, interesting architecture

and stewardesses are polite

do what your heart says

in its beating

some things cannot be

discouraged

Minkowski's Love Poem

Minkowski’s Love Poem

(Einstein’s teacher who suggested space-time in 1908)

how we see ourselves

is an illusion     an avatar

of wishful thinking

reflected in the eyes of our admirers

every gesture practiced

refined    garmenting

the image of a self 

we can never be 

alone

 a part of the logarithim

of our non linear lives

imagine X in terms of Y

in terms of X

symbiotic

necessary

we dream 

each other’s daily lives

beyond touch 

seperated by oceans

by choices 

shed the bravado

the pride   you

are forgiven   forgive me

know

i would rip the fabric of the universe

bending the geometry of space time
just

to kiss you 

again