Poetry Blogs (memory)

In the hammering rain of last night
I slept the best I’ve managed all week
I slept deeper, longer
than I have done for months

And would you guess who I should meet there
on the dream stools
at the dream bar
ordering her dream gin
sliding me a dream beer

Well, you come here often
I don’t have to ask
I’ve seen you here so many nights before
but it has been a while
(and I’ve missed y...

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There is always one sacred moment

when the night's ink black sky

allows some personal atonement

to my dull and once-blind eye:

a single white star's icy reign,

absent in the deepest dark,

until the second that my brain

is riven by its diamond spark.

That this sheer shining crystal blazed

while hidden from my careful scan 

can only leave me dumb, amazed

that the min...

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Where once her warm and sanguine heart

fell ashen grey to rest in cold base dirt

high over the familiar bush and shrub

proud crimson blooms pine for love  

Where their sacred beauty sings to my heart

they call forth the lovely nightingale

high in their cloudless summer sky

to sweetly sing their longing song

There, I too confess a secret yearning

silent hidden d...

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Between the last customer

and morning light

in the parking lot of the Korean Gentleman's Club,

he picks lilacs for me.

Standing high against a warehouse wall,

these always bloom early, and 

he goes annually, covertly, in the still dark,

unsure of welcome by the

Korean Gentlemen.

He fills the car.

I imagine that damp, spring-scented ride home,

his fantasy of be...

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Rumor has it, the story

went like this...

back in the '60s, baby Isaac

had just turned three,

waving the classified section 

of a discarded newspaper 

like a flag, but giggling

way too close to the heater. 

That's all it takes

to turn ordinary days into tragedy.

Heater met paper; 

paper, overheated, touched his shirt;

shirt mindlessly took in the flame...

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I liked the way he looked at me

Like I was the only thing he could see

or that was worth looking at. 

I liked the smile he made for me

A tailored face, specifically 

to tell me what he couldn't say. 

I liked the things that went unsaid

The message in the nod, the tilt of his head, 

the eye contact held too long. 

I liked his arms, skin brushing skin

A s...

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