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“ with cup in hand, as the dog days wane “
It’s that time of year again… Sirius is in decline as the Summer heat prevails… The lush beauty of Spring… Now appears like litter upon the ground… As those ancient drums echo across the land… Carried in the winds of Summer… Sending the limbs of shade… Into the wild exotic rages of dance… Limbs and…
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” through our past moments “
“ through our past moments “ The French have a saying that describes a feeling… That one in which you are left knowing you have had before… She and I, well we encouraged them to finally use it in print… You see when our paths cross… We relive, in a moment the love we have…
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For love is what created eternity…
How these old fingers can still pluck at these strings… They seem to have a memory that leaves me bewildered… Even before “ I wore a younger mans clothes “… I still hear their voices… as if they are recorded within the memories of each note… “ Telling my whole life “ with a pluck…
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A Precipice Of Passage
A friend shared with me… Her struggle with addiction… Following the passing of my daughter… She described it… As if one was flirting with death… Each time a clearer image emerged… The illusion of a better existance… A challenge to kiss death and then return… From what I remember… The year was 1964… My youth…
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The Winds Of Love
“ the winds of love “ Deep within the savage soul there beats a heart… Of savage gold in the untamed forms… Within the greed and lust of the animal called man… Whose heart is transformed by a melody… Carried within the winds of love…
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Within my heart and soul…
The moment I saw you laying there as the surf caressed your body… My desires erupted into memories of love scenes from the old movies… I began watching before puberty engaged my senses and I understood desire… The one scene that everyone remembers only lasted a few minutes… While the passion we shared flows beyond…
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Our hearts still hear one another…
We once shared our innermost thoughts… Our words were written by one and then the other… We crossed the lines they say do not exist… Be it a voice in the winds of time… An underlinning presences felt within… Being woken amidst a dream… Be it your touch… Be it voice, calling out my name……
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Our Little Game Of Love
Always in her face, never in her eyes… Game on, you know what you did… The way you looked at that woman… The one with the flirty eyes… The one who refused eye contact with me… Game on, My dear, I had to give her my name… How else would I have gotten us a…
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” I had no answer “
At first it was her hat… “ since my first rodeo, maybe all of six or seven at the time…and all the women there wearing different versions of cowboy hats…I’ve had this thing for women in hats” That’s what pulled me in… Then it was a different sort of vibe… “ I blame it on…
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” as if we knew “
There were so many dreams So many times I felt her presence… So many times I knew it was her… So many times I felt her touch… Upon my arm, when she entered my dream… Upon my back, being touched when I sat down on the bed… Upon my lips, rising out of bed to…
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A Poet's Haven 