At Heart

As a child, earnest
As a late-day water lily bloom
As a hopeless romantic

Thrive despite the shallow
Give the coolest shelter
Live to love and fight

To be free from such rules
To grow in the coming dark
To rise from it all each day

Bona Fide

All I ask of authenticity, as I swirl it across my palette
Simply this: Stop tasting as nostalgia might

Some genteel trip down memory lane
A life my children cannot revel in having once lived

Become balanced again, more perfect in this place
Tannins, stripped away

Smooth-sweetness, shine through
Impress me


No reason my heart ought beat
No logic

Save you, who saves me

From nothingness, thinks me something
From absence, brings me present

No reason, no logic
But perfect sense

Photographic Memory Expedition

One would ask, “Wouldn’t it be lovely?”
Driving down gridded streets that sometimes wound East, then South.
Thinking of shutters painted contrasting colors, or perhaps altogether removed.

One imagines children’s summertime voices.
Carefree and popsicle glee, front sidewalks their territory.
As it should be.

One seems perfect there.
Small and yellow, with miles and miles of welcome.
Surely big enough for whatever weather.

Minor Prophet

I want to kiss the liquor from your lips
And your need for it
I want to escort the pain from your blue eyes 
To help you see again
That American Beauty of a wife
Those sweat-stained boys
Who think you are their life

The all of us who need you


Tending to the dream
From deep in the dark

Remembering the breath
Stolen away

Hoping much too hard
To bring you to life

Smiling nonetheless
For that’s what you loved