Behind Me
You won’t see me
Martini
Numbed, ever
Spirits
Drowning my demons, never
I walked from you
Champagne-free
Toasting, forever
Mock(ed) Margarita
Proud, untethered
Post-Victim Era
H2O-flasked
Glowed, better
Sweet Jesus-juiced
My senses, together
Your Door: A Poem to My Son
Such is the challenge
To behold a door
To sense all it leads to
While not grieving more
To know if it’s opened
The Divine has willed
To praise, when it’s closed
His providence, still
Forth, amble with purpose
Or wait night and day
But ask for The Blessing
God’s presence, to stay
Under the Sun: A Haiku
Nothing here is new
My heart, His art — all shattered
Hope-filled pieces, still
The Greatest
Our colors, like water…like oxygen…work well together…like art from artists, were we to work in earnest.
What say you, America — will we work on love, on great…’fore the hour becomes late?
Original Thought Credit:
“…the greatest of these is love.” -1 Corinthians 13:13
“When America ceases to be good, she will cease to be great.” -Alexis de Tocqueville
As You Wish
I weep
That we
Were not good
Enough
I long
That you
Would see you’re
Enough
Clutter from time to time
Mismatched clothes
My dawdling
Our difficult workdays
For you, were too much
Brass rings collected
Passports filled
Our non-fictitious Florin acquired
Love, had you’d let it
For me, these were enough
Independence Eve: A Haiku
Last time my heart’ll fall
Dogs in the night, breaking in
Last time, I promise
Pie
I loved you
I loved
Sleeping along side you
Listening to you breathe
Basking in your presence through the night
Seeing in the morning you were real
Sharing berries at breakfast with you
I’ll be damned — you were larger than life
And your walking away — without a goodbye — a most epic plot twist
A pie in the face afterall
X Y Zenith
Just this one more line
Just this one more time
But I would have drowned
If you’d meant to change
If it were the day
Strength you should have found
Boundaries are most real
Boundaries helped me heal
Cross none sacred ground
Liquid Heat
Oxygen, I
Afire, you
Particular particulate matter, we
Your grey-green eyes, my green, green eyes
This was all that mattered
Dissipated, now
Why
Science and God refuse to explain
I bemoan and decry