she was a today lover

she was a today lover,

a here lover,

a this is everything i have lover;

a now lover,

sure lover,

an, “are these the limits of your strength,

because if not hug me tighter,” lover.

she was a let’s go lover,

a when you’re ready lover,

an, “i will wait till the sun isn’t shine -

ing, just tell me that you’re mine,” lover.

he was a tomorrow lover

a there and then lover,

an, only if x, y, and z lover,

a future lover,

maybe lover,

an, “if we do, when and how

will we ever make it work?” lover.

he was a let’s see lover,

a give me time lover,

an, “if you are not here with me -

now, we will never be,” lover.

-----

so we swore up and down

like ani -

mated frowns; like

we were right, like

we were wrong

lovers, like

we had

nothing to prove

but our souls to lose, like

we were perfect

yet still stranger -

s, lover.

and somehow, i made

peace with doubt,

(and didn’t shape my mouth,

when she became

a then please don’t call

lover,

an i’m here now,

lover,

an, “i’ll kiss you til’ you feel,

but for gods sake,

just love me,”

lover),

-----

but not peace with eternity

never peace with tomorrow,

tomorrow lovers

are not lovers, and

if you, pebble

wake-ups at their windows

and woo meadows

from their singing,

(breathe),

spread blankets under stars

and hope to god

they hear your soul,

weep,

for theirs,

for mine,

because it’s pit -

falled

in the notional,

shadowy fictional

belief

that tomorrow is anything but

tomorrow,

with no more greater

significance.

all we know

of forever

looks like today

lover.

and i had to become,

audibly,

a forgive me

god,

lover,

to find everything i wanted

in her

today lover.

art

Automat

by

Edward Hopper

A favorite

days i dream of august

the only words i dare say

are days,

from another somewhere,

when i,

fit our longings into us

and her brown eyes into my

earth-stained forever,

yes

the forever we both promised, the

it's already august,

the september twenty fifths

and the

fourth st. of daisies

.....

there is a ledge that stands

up to the entrance

of your hello,

and a cliff behind

your i don’t

love you anymore.

without harness,

below steepness,

your facade

invites reckless

for the pure sake of the view within

your come find me

.....

deliberating

i was cautious

you

wished

i'd

simply want this

but said

you needed to summit

by sunset

and couldn't wait

solely,

for the chance to miss it

so i penned my name coward,

on the heels of your

i want us,

because i didn't

climb with you

because i

feared falling, because

i feared a horizon

of not looking out together,

all the while you

knew of places to rest,

that even though you climbed higher

faster, you said

you’d be patient

while i took breath

......

deliberating,

i was cautious

unlike days i dream

of August,

on that baseball field

in a rain storm,

racing puddles

into fairytales,

where all the clay,

sprayed

from our head first

plot lines,

played

weather braving

birds into our soundtrack

if baseball fields

were castles,

and your bare feet chasing mine,

the kiss that broke spells

and ever after,

we transcended fiction,

and became

sleeping beauties and princes

.....

and all the clay,

washed from my striped shirt and jeans

from your green sun dress and feet,

drips to my earth-stained forever,

goddamn i loved her knees

Art

'Musique Seine Michel Bataille et Moi'

by Joan Miro

like violin strings and distant windows

when we stood above

the rooftops, of

cities like houses,

we stars;

i knew i meant the things

i said and

you believed the words i spoke;

like pebbles rippling wake

into planetary shores

there

you took the shape of woman,

colors, broken light,

like stained glass, through

the cathedral

near market

where i stood alone

watching eyes

of children

in the back pew

with fathers hands

securing

and head bowed reverence

like god could hear him,

like god could hear him,

like god

could

hear me

when i shouted,

each time

reaching for my pocket

just to make sure

we were still there

in the indian stone

all the way to clark beach

peddling affection

into sidewalk cracks

onto grass carpets

and palm tree bike racks

my god

if this was love

i found home

i found eternity

i found place

within a world,

where each day

seems I don’t,

where each day fumbles

the words

I swear eloquently

top the ballads of great composers

so i played

like violin strings

and distant windows, and

god she heard me

I sang, and

like a tea kettle

and a back porch springtime

she heard me

two and one half years a way

she saw me

and stepped to my melody

like i’m singing now

she heard me

to eternal and today

she saw me

and stepped to my melody

like violin strings

and distant windows

let her hear me.