awaiting (a poem)
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
i have waited for her for so long
i am beginning to make up stories
tell myself lies
that when she arrives
i will be sure to wipe clean the slate
there are no known roads ahead
we have never been here before
and have no maps for what’s next
best to stay in the touch and now
in the shine and slick of skin
and not let our hearts get ahead
of what we cannot comprehend
nor predict
4-17-14
image: atlanic ave, peter burge, creative commons usage
outside edges
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
i walk the outside edges tonight
seeking a warmth
stars are hidden by smoke or clouds
with the hazy coming of winter here
and you have still not arrived
though my prayers are swift
true and pure
it is me that still needs tending
in the burning desire
that turns in on itself
11-6-13
image: creative commons usage – lite-bright art
shimmer
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
it’s not just everything about her
i know so little
it’s not the wisp of hair
the light
the breast and belly
it’s not all those things
it might be what she is looking at
that i cannot see
it might be the hope
she is looking for someone
i know it is a photograph
i know she is not real
in this moment of light
and promise
and poem
i know
and i wander
into the folds
and shimmer
11-4-12
let’s pretend nothing sparked
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
let’s pretend nothing sparked
and go on about our lives
certain that we know or don’t know
where to go from here
i’ll forget how your smile
made me feel
how I wanted to know your neck
and how, just moments before
you were simply a photograph
i’ll keep my place in line
and try not to imagine you
in the red convertible ahead
in the rain it is easier
but not easy
because i want
i want i want i want
so much
too much
that i am working on ways
to let out the line
and give you running room
and forget myself, even
for a day or so
hoping the signal
the ping, the pull
might arrive down the line
without my jerk
or tug or love poem
i am counting cycles
observing myself as a fisherman
new to the sport
and teachable
so run
live
thrive
and tomorrow
remember how i made you feel
and give a little pull
i promise not to gaff
or pull too hard
i am weaving a net in my spare time
while i am not thinking
of you
11-4-13
brightness of desire
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
the brightness of this day
could only be increased
by your smile
as my heart leaps
towards
my idea
of you
i can escape this
desire
perhaps
by not venturing
flirting and vaulting
dialing back
the intensity
but i want heat
the potential for fire
that burns away
this ache
crisps the rough edges of the past
and sands them away
with frequency
and fever
and friction
and you
the brightness of this day
alone
is still beautiful and full
and I am wondering
about you
and your fire
your heart
s
desire
11-3-13
imagine this rain
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
find the relaxing place again
watching the daylight fade
together
nothing else
silence
holding hands, maybe
your smell
and smile
still visible as darkness
overwhelms
it is how i imagine
this rain
if you
were
here
10-30-13
receding moon
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
she is the receding moon in a clear blue sky
influences like tides
there is light with no heat
and the whole world is opened up
with potential and promise
beauty in hope and romantic reach
waves out from my heart
heavenward and hopeful
10-24-13
image: blue sky moon used under creative commons usage
the beat and beat and pause
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
perhaps all this fire just beneath the surface
presents me as a dangerous poet
a romantic with ocd
i can’t seem to stop the words
when i’m happy
or high
an intoxicating sheen
i try to infuse
even when i speak
i listen to the cadence
the beat and beat and pause
the heart of the words
i am trying to connect to her heart
linking us
to pull her closer
all with pause
and patience
and silence enforced
while the words pour on
i give her a rest
because
obsession is not pretty
rich romantic notions
can be unhealthy
overwhelm the fragile stability
i know
i am aware
of my own raging fires
i have learned
this venting process
10-20-13
afternoon here
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
it is afternoon here
and i still don’t know
where you are
poems measure
mappings of desire
still
the nets remain empty
laying out letters
and stones
in formations
arranging flowers
within the grass
giving you signals
directions
openings
i will continue
until
a blush
smile
and
reply
10-19-13
against beauty
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
the nuance is lost
when i hunger
with such intensity
i wear myself out
i cannot imagine
her
my heart bursting
wouldn’t
run
anytime there is a glimmer
i jump with both feet
as into a fresh rain puddle
without care or map
i am reckless
and abandoned
i thrash slightly
with romantic epiphanies
there she is
beauty personified
wings folded
smile alight
there she is
hovering
dipping
smelling of salt
an easy death will not come
not little deaths
but large ones
i do not haunt or hunt
i craft and scheme
and write missives
hoping she will
receive
here she is
listening
within reach
still fluttering
amazed
both of us
at the closeness
and heat
and risk
of flame
i have the patience of a surgeon
and the passion of a teenage boy
i do not fumble
but ready my arrow
and give voice to flying instructions
asking for her assistance
a little lift
is required
but we pause
the is nothing simple about falling
nothing casual
about what I am craving
i fall well
i love even more intentionally
at least…
at least i imagine i will
given the chance, the shot, the siren
i will gladly crash into her
burning all maps
forgiving all plans and transgressions
as we explode
but there is no exploding
today i am only dreaming
today i am doing
my romantic poet
i can tuck this craving under a stone
and go on about my business
today has many turns left
while rubbing up against beauty
ever familiar
ever distant
inspiring yet again
without tangible evidence
that i am getting any closer
to her
10-18-13
image used by permission: mermaid series by jesse sublett
fall and falling and me
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
tonight the burning leaves
bring mysterious memories to mind
of women, rough blankets, hard kisses
in this cold turning of dark
i am alone
and walking
remembering
is this exquisite longing
this curating of desire
an escape for jumping back in
into the pile of leaves
and dirt and chaos
and scraped knees
am i enjoying my musing
more than i would a good kissing
or something rarer perhaps
at play
at rest with myself
i am not longing with my soul
i am longing with my heart
refinding center
at peace
as me
i love the falling
i would love to fall
i have a fear of falling
an error could set me back 11 years
i miss falling
i won’t settle for hopping
or hoping
i need full flight
breathless abandon
without that
the fall is scented with imaginings
again of who or where she might be
i don’t want all right
i don’t crave steady, or solid, or sure
i don’t fall for youth or red lips
i see them, i see potentials everywhere
but they can’t hear me
there is not much to see at the moment
i am reforming
recalculating
calibrating
re
me
10-17-13
image used via creative commons: heat
accidental angels
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
accidental angels have landed in my life
only a few times
each had a message
usually about sex
sometimes about hope
imagine my surprise at 21 years-old
to find an angel in my car with me
taking her clothes off as we speed towards the lake
it’s too cold to get out of the car or swim
she is naked
says she’s a virgin, but I can’t believe that
and i remember the music
and kissing and
driving her back to her cousin’s house
she was visiting
i guess angels have cousins too
the second angel came with flower tattoo on her shoulder
and a smile that lit up the selfie network
unlike any before or since
and she spoke of rain and cure songs
as the chorus of mutually assured flight was determined
she liked tequila and sappy love songs
on her second return flight she hit a dense fog
and never arrived
though her smiling selfies and empty coffee cups
still flutter by occasionally
the most recent flyby was more dangerous
she was still encumbered in the process
in the leaving
and i must’ve seemed like a perch of pause
but i became a leaping off point
and she has since flown away
though her whispers are also still echoing
across the cellular airways
i’m not ready for another angel
i’d prefer a woman
and even then, i’m not sure i’m ready
but perhaps you never are
they are all angels
after all
10-17-13
image is used courtesy of ricardo acevedo and model sera
sera sera sera
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
devastating beauty
of dark and quixotic myth
an endless stream of black night, all stars
deep scent and dampness
any whispers or words
are lost in the soundless awe
words no match for the image
the eye
the lip
a soft and sharp neck
uncovered yet colorless
unmasked
she penetrates my
my
she takes my
my
she is
i’ve lost all
she
cannot imagine
who i think she might be
she is a distant shimmer of light
a dark vortex of mysterious imagination
she is mine
and nothing
and beautiful
and elsewhere
she calls forth a greatness
a striving and chivalrous heart
she
is
not
what she appears to be
beauty caught for a second
in a moment of magic
some distant fires
must warm her gaze
and bring redness and smiles
imagining her laugh
but she is not
she cannot be
she mustn’t ever
this isn’t about her
of course
it is about her hair
her magic
and the fear it conjures
if one so beautiful
exists
by digital frame
is it
conceivable that her inner light
could also radiate with
this
beauty
is the pain from a knowing or unknowing
the tearing of lost hopes
memories and victories
of battles and mountains of youth
there is a chasm between, below, and ahead
i am not seeking
but praying
to a god i don’t pretend to understand
a god who delights in this raw
unfiltered potency
and perhaps in my faint song
of praise
i am praying
and searching for letters
to weave a tapestry or net
of such strength and brilliance
but i pause now
knowing the light is an illusion
the trick
my own
she
my she
is nothing like her
what i have lost
is not returning
what i have yet to discover
still a siren’s song of sorts
still a calling to the rocks
to the old gods
to sacrifices
and
shields of gold
fires
blood
heroes and honor and
and this
image calls an entire fleet
in my heart
this older, slower heart
still red with desire
simmering with incantations
aspirations
to
love
love fully
love unlimited by age or time or reality
love
just
love
god
she is god
i am an acolyte
and i sing
10-16-13
image from: The Tale of Sera Leigh
eyes to the bottom of the pool
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
i’m not waiting for her to make the first move
kiss first
ask for the 2nd date
but I am anticipating that she will provide
some sign
an indication
that will fuel or foul my flames
and she did
and it was a no
and now I can move on
i may never know what why or how
and she will most likely not offer
so we drift
back to our lanes
eyes to the bottom of the pool
and swim on
10-13-13
image: hockney inspired photo
in the coils
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
in the coils of her dark wet hair
i could lose a lifetime
willingly
slipping into something more comfortable
i would give up oxygen
if it meant i could stay safe
in the fresh deep smell
of a woman
so clean
so completely
open
10-9-13
image: untitled used by creative commons license
the slivered moon
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
there they go again
those coyotes
reminding me of your absence
i walk
i look
i better myself
and nothing
the slivered moon sees you
but i don’t
the howls remind me
the bed reminds me
the feeling beneath my chest
knows something is missing
a dark moment
full of promise
maybe they are talking to me
to her
i am not ready
i am not ready
i am not finished
completing myself
this perfecting loneliness
is honest work
if you can stomach the hours
perhaps the howling
is felt
by many
10-8-13
seeking each moment
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
kissing this night
and the crickets singing
in harmony with the clear cold stars
holding this image of fascination
with just where you are
how the light of this darkness
strikes your heart
your fancy
and are you longing too
10-6-13
a glow
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
across the room i noticed her
glowing
the one next to me
not glowing
i was tethered
but my eyes were alight
i knew
in that moment
i could never settle
again
for
not glowing
9-23-13
word after word seeking another
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
ensnaring her in my imagination
she stumbles across my words
rapt and tingling from the assumptions
she is young and old
and finding new pleasures
where the previous ones have gone missing
i meet her in my projections
lover, romantic, singer, dancer
i too am shutting down old wings
unproductive castings
lost kisses
in this very word
and this one
she is taken
mine
9-23-13
fall arriving
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
and the weather changed and changed everything
i smile, imagining your smile
as the leaves swished down and past
rain smell and damp earth hunger
and memories, hopes, and dreams
of you
and
you called
9-21-13
safety is not the issue
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
safety is an illusion
a crutch
and excuse
for not feeling what you feel
for not saying what you mean
for not giving everything you have
for not…
stop
let’s forget being safe
or trying to define safety
let’s throw caution to the dogs
and make hay where the sun don’t shine
there’s today
and then what
9-10-13
ready
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
let me test theories of tenderness across your toes
and give flight to dalliances within walled and secret spaces
let me pry opening thoughts into your aches
and see if there is available lighting inside
i will stroke and stoke each ember
i will whisper them awake at night
and again at the sunrise
shelter and protect and build to a burning blaze
and collapse along side
without hurry or chore
blameless and alight and at rest
ready
9-6-13
burning
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
my desire is the sun
burning away all lukewarms, maybes, and almosts
there is no time for that
the heat and growing potential is staggering
and hot hot hot
8-28-13
unanswered
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
after the 27th unanswered love poem
i discovered
of course i already knew
that i was making the whole thing up
maybe i had been ambiguous
or lacking in direct action
a poem is not exactly a kiss
6-26-13
