I want to know the part of me
that’s been forsaken all these years
by thoughts and visions, intuitions free
of real-time, no shit plans to engineer
contact with the chthonic. I want to know
that dark side of my moon, small-
time instead of big, a midnight antidote
to the flashing neon I D E A scrawl
my dominant hand has exercised so far.
I say the time has come to claim new
pivot space—a landing at a foreign hearth—
a shift from Sol to Luna, air to earth, to
the night-shade life I’m dreaming of.
First mission, darling: love, and be loved.
Poem #18 of 30 for National Poetry Writing Month April 2016
You hover-dance at
my window daily. I freeze,
mesmerized by you.
Do you see me, my
lithe friend? Do you perceive my
energy near you?
Will you live and die
in peace? Do you manage cares
you don’t share with me?
Poem #17 of 30 for National Poetry Writing Month April 2016
Image by John Livzey
Grief is a slow-motion
a slow-rising, ebbing,
Time is its own slave
running the show,
while you shine through, dear,
like the glass
with those narrow hands.
I know your time
is coming, love.
And your new what
will be beautiful.
Like you, beautiful.
Baby, I Love You
Blame It on My Youth
Feel Like Makin’ Love
Let’s Go Dancing
Make Me a Memory
Never Givin’ Up
Poem #12 of 30 for National Poetry Writing Month April 2016
In the sketchy heart of Hollywood,
in a goth building your beloved
Ghostbusters might be called to,
you nested fast in a 2nd floor walk-up,
all pristine paint and put-together furniture
that won’t break the bank. The vibe
is right, brick walls, oak floors,
and conversation-starter nooks and crannies
for who knows what early 20th century stuff.
We bring basil in a pot, tomatoes, garlic,
a baguette, champagne,
lavender salts for your virgin bath,
and congratulations. You’re on
your path. We head back and hit the 101,
about young love.
Poem #11 of 30 for National Poetry Writing Month April 2016