Fog Horns

Gliding through
a field of ice,
hands too frozen
to climb,
a beautiful mess
of a shipwreck,
diving through
to the parts
that still
make sense,
all the pieces 
spell out your name,
but what I wouldn't 
give to see your face

The reflection
in the water
enough to pull
me under,
wound around you
tighter than
a spring,
the only life line
keeping me
from floating
out to sea

It gets harder
to remember
what I've
already memorized,
gave them a smile,
but saved you
my eyes,
digging through
the debris
to find what's
left of me
because I get 
lost in your
look, now you're 
all I can see

Too deeply involved
to ever get out,
but the ocean
deadens sound

If I go down,
then we go down
together, because
I remember 
what you said
when the horns
were blowing,
push through 
the storm,
until it gets 
better, and then
keep going.

Days of the Week

On Sunday, we do nothing
with no time to lose;
Monday I chase away
your blues;
By Tuesday, I'm drunk
on the pain of missing
you; I don't want to talk
about Wednesdays
too soon; Now,
I know on Thursday
you've got something
to do, and Friday
I wait by the mailbox
for you, so Saturday
is always something

Wonderfullest of All

I have a thousand images of you in an hour; all different and all coming back to the same… And we love. And we’ve got the most amazing secrets and understandings. Noel, whom I love, who is so beautiful and wonderful. I think of you eating omlette on the ground. I think of you once against a sky line: and on the hill that Sunday morning.

And that night was wonderfullest of all. The light and the shadow and quietness and the rain and the wood. And you. You are so beautiful and wonderful that I daren’t write to you… And kinder than God.

Your arms and lips and hair and shoulders and voice – you.

Rupert Brooke

2 October 1911


He's seen me
at my worst,
knows me better
than any book,
dragged me
speechless when he
gives me that

We were always
catching each other
out the door,
never saw him
I crashed right
through the floor,
yes, no, and maybes,
and have I seen 
you here before

Images waiting on words
with nothing left
to say,
we were staring
at each other,
blank looks on
our face,
unreadable expressions,
we couldn't turn

A landscape of
when the words
won't come,
an infinity
when the limits
of love are


Saying goodbye
has only broken
my heart about
a dozen times
so I started
saying goodnight

Let's do it again
turned into asking
for one more time,
begging for another

He was teaching 
me how to fly,
I was learning
how to cry

I remember
waking up
taking off,
wondering if
I could have
ever held him

Neon Lights

This is how 
an angel cries,
walking home
under neon lights,
on the corner,
a man screams
into his phone,
whatever it takes,
just bring her

Frost on 
all the windows,
shops closing up
for the night,
still a long way 
to go,
but she's not
going home

This is how
an angel cries,
walking home
under neon lights,
on the corner,
a girl in 
all the wrong clothes
screams into her phone,
please pick me up
and take me 

And it's 
a travelled road
if you've been here
all the freedom
in the world
with no place
to go,
running until you
run out of 

This is…

His face
between my hands,
asking for one more
hoping this night
won't end

Wandering through
a reverie,
absorbed by
the revelry,
lost in his eyes
the room turns
as we spin

The park
at dusk,
his arm,
my touch,
the song
in my soul,
the way breathing
comes so natural

in solitude 
and peace,
my heart,
his sleeve,
dazed by 
the memories

Lamps lit
by one spark,
at home
before dark,
long drives
and small talk,
daylight fading
into night stars

Dandelion wishes
around bonfires,
kissing in the kitchen
and long-held desires,
the truth comes out
between my lips,
I am in love,
that's what
this is... 

True Love

My dearest,
When two souls, which have sought each other for, however long in the throng, have finally found each other …a union, fiery and pure as they themselves are… begins on earth and continues forever in heaven.

This union is love, true love, a religion, which deifies the loved one, whose life comes from devotion and passion, and for which the greatest sacrifices are the sweetest delights.

This is the love which you inspire in me… Your soul is made to love with the purity and passion of angels; but perhaps it can only love another angel, in which case I must tremble with apprehension.

Yours forever,

Victor Hugo