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Month: September 2021

No, that is anger

that I cannot capture

In the distant mountains

I forget my anger

I forget how to write poetry

my hand writes it

for me

Forgetting is the curve of a

broken curtain

What is the way of loving?

Where not feeling

on every path

I walk in it

there is a chance

of new addiction

or new passion

Your mind

and body

have found

no place here

except for under

the olive tree

approaching ripeness

What you cannot find in yourself

I find in you

I meet you

in a dream

where you are a ghost

of somebody I once knew

Who could tell me

the exact moment my love left me?

When the home is still

and our souls are asleep

there is a rectangle of light

from the moon

on the floor next to the kitchen

In every home,

I find this rectangle somewhere

beneath a window

and it causes me to remember

as a child

being the only person awake

when the world was asleep

I find fear in forgetting

what has not yet come

I do not know love

I do not know fear

and your faces become one

Soft love meant for anybody and nobody

Speaking to you

I do not hear you and

you do not hear me

We fly past one another

that is our loss

Love I lose from losing you

is found again and again

in the back of the house of prayer

saved for after the prayers end

when we have come to love again

A bridge to the soul’s shadow

crosses your path

one thousand times

and each time

I become

more without

The book that is holy

is on a shelf next to

my mother and her mother’s

The book becomes my


I write love poems in it’s memory

they glisten

and they praise

How might my ghost find it?

Many years in exile with a smile and a hope

Across bridges and journeys long


It seems

I was here once