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
DIVORCE: What I Need To Tell You: Take Heart. It Gets Better.
I’m happy.
My posts/poems about desire are really about hoping and striving towards “what’s next.”
I had a friend ping me on Facebook yesterday after reading one of my poems. She said, “They make me so sad for you.” I was surprised. But I can understand how things might come off that way, especially if you are entering The Off Parent from one of the more emotional posts. But I want to be clear, this is a process, and this blog is large enough to contain the anger, the depression, the joy, the thrill of new relationships, and the frustration at dealing with a woman who no longer thinks I’m hot shit. (That’s okay, it’s mutual.) Overall, the picture I am hoping to paint… WAIT. That’s not the idea. I’m not trying to put a bow around the process of divorce. Let’s try again.
I would not want Divorce for ANYONE. That said, my divorce, has become one of the defining and re-defining moments of my life. I would not say I wanted the divorce, or that it was MY idea… BUT… I was starting to stand up for a situation that had become unbearable for me.
|
The points of leverage changed dramatically when she let me know, in therapy, that she HAD consulted an attorney.
|
The difference between my ex-wife’s perspective and mine was minor. Critical, but minor. In the large scheme of things, I was also demanding a change.
MY PERSPECTIVE: this demand was the only way I had to effect change from within my marriage. I was arguing and demanding answers to some dark questions from the perspective that I WANTED THE MARRIAGE TO CONTINUE.
HER PERSPECTIVE: (somewhat paraphrased, but we went over it a number of times in therapy, so I’m not putting words into her mouth) she was unhappy with the marriage and saw no signs of things changing or getting better, thus it was better for her to move to something different.
The points of leverage changed dramatically when she let me know, in therapy, that she HAD consulted an attorney. I was crushed and panicked, but unsurprised. The anger she had been demonstrating in action and words over the previous 12 months had all but wrecked my positive outlook. And this admission, only revealed by my direct ask, “Have you already been to see a lawyer?” When she said yes, I just about hit the eject button right there. I did the sober thing, and expressed my dismay in a rational manner and left the session feeling absolutely lost about what to do next.
In the process of the next few days, primarily via email, I ranted and demanded she make a decision. She demurred and deflected for a couple of days. But in the end I was asked to leave the house and give her some space, so relief from the stress and tension she and the kids were experiencing. Um, what?
In the end, I refused. It was March. My line, “The process of divorce takes time. There is no hurry. And I’m not going to throw my kid’s lives into this hell before the school year is up. We’ve been living as roommates for a year, we can do it for another two months. We can split sleeping on the couch.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, in my rapidly crashing heart, I was certain she would see the error of her ways and come back. I knew, however, in my rational mind, that this was not going to happen.
|
Today, three years later, I am happy. Alone. But happy. And I won’t pass judgement on her and the boyfriend who has given her strength and steadiness.
|
A few sessions before the hammer fell the therapist had asked a pivotal question, “How do you feel about the marriage and this process at this point.”
I went first. “Hopeful.”
Her word, and I knew more than I wanted to admit actually how hopeless I was feeling, was “Cynical.”
Fuck.
I think that was the beginning of my revelation into the darkness that now separated the two of us. It was different for each of us. But the pain, sadness, and anger was just a potent for each of us. I like to think I was on the optimist-side of the whole deal, but I was pretty disheartened.
All that said… as water under the bridge…
Today, three years later, I am happy. Alone. But happy. And I won’t pass judgement on her and the boyfriend who has given her strength and steadiness. My daughter likes him. That’s enough for me.
As I cursed, raged, pleaded, and cried at my wife trying to get her to come back to the marriage, I was also certain that I could not do it alone. Two people have to be IN for a marriage to work. So she exited before me. Probably, maybe, that whole year of blinding anger, was really her way of trying to help ME exit. But I’m projecting now.
When the agreement was made to divorce I also demanded the right to stay in the house until the kids were out of school. A shitty-hard decision, but I did not want to reenact the gross and bitter divorce struggle of my parents. And it was my argument, even against the therapist, that remaining in the house while the kids finished their 1st and 4th grade years at elementary school was much better than me leaving the house immediately.
Take heart. It gets better.
And today, I would assure you that my kids are thriving. And while the ex-y and I don’t communicate much, we have kids who love both of us and are seeing how we can still care about each other while moving in new directions with our lives.
So as I write poems about being “a poet rather than a player” I mean to be happy about it. This journey has taken some amazingly wonderful turns. And the next one is coming right up.
Sincerely,
John McElhenney – life coach austin texas
Facebook | Instagram | Pinterest | @theoffparent
As a certified life coach, I’ve been helping men and women find fulfilling relationships. If you’d like to chat for 30-minutes about your dating/relationship challenges, I always give the first 30-session away for free. LEARN ABOUT COACHING WITH JOHN. There are no obligations to continue. But I get excited every time I talk to someone new. I can offer new perspectives and experiences from my post-divorce dating journey. Most of all, I can offer hope.
related posts:
- The Divorce Whisperer
- On the Turning Away: Fighting with Your Ex About Money
- Re-finding My Dick After Divorce
- The Light At the End of the Tunnel, It’s Yours
resources:
- The Divorce Library (reading list)
- Songs of Divorce (free listening library – youtube sourced songs)
- Laugh It Off (building a resource library of funny videos and other diversions)
- Facebook (follow us on Facebook and keep up with all the conversations)
- The 5 Love Languages (a book on love styles by Gary Chapman)
image: broken dreams, brandon satterwhite, creative commons usage
aspirational
[from a coffee love letter – poetry]
i’m doing it again
staked out at the back of a fancy coffee shop
“working”
but really i’m browsing
love of my life after love of my life
like a river of beautiful women
come through the glass doors
unsuspecting of my intent
and harmless intensity
i have shown myself to be a romantic
a poet rather than a player
and really this stream of loveliness
is a cut above my weight and income class
i tried
i hoped to be that earner
i aspired to have a stay at home wife
things didn’t work out as i planned
do they ever?
wave after wave enter the coffee shop
in search of enlightenment
or at least a lift
i could be that jolt
i could be just what she needs
and then…
most-likely
i would not be able to provide
the beautiful car, house, kids, yoga classes
without some contribution
beyond thigh-sculpting
i am distracted from the task at hand
the new client is late
very late
money is flowing out of my pocket with every minute
i sit here, mesmerized
and yet
i am drawn
i am designing
i am reaching for a dream
there she is
and there
and once more
even their boyfriend/husband is irrelevant
at this point
there is nothing
nothing
only the
#desire
8-26-13
calm cool purrs all around
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
i will be another’s cat’s meow
stroking and petting and leisurely napping
we will know each other by instinct
it’s almost as if we had no choice
as we rub tails, whiskers, noses
the trick, as i imagine it
will be to remain aloof and adoring
while expressing and applying
a pressing desire
a nod a nudge a blink
and calm cool purrs all around
but not too her
near her
until she cannot resist
what we’ve both known
since the moment we met
8-25-13
peacefully anticipating someone
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
we don’t have much time
and all the time in the world lies before us
it is about what we choose
who we are to become
and what cast of characters we’d like to
write into the next scene
i sit here
type type typing
and you there
type type typing
working for a living
and a moment
and the space
in
time
if we choose something else
we have decided
if ‘maybe’ is the constant answer
no is the result
i am not saying this
i am typing this
i am afraid
to say
i want you
to crave you
to have and to
it might be easy
but only time will tell
this time
that tics and clicks away
beneath our fingers
across the backs of our wings
i have known flight
and i can remember what that feels like
the ground is no place for dreamers
and lovers
perhaps the lover in you is still obscured
or perhaps it is me
any moment
is every moment
and without you
they are alone
moments
okay
but alone
i am ready to be not-alone
i imagine smelling your neck
and the coarseness of your toes after a long walk
the dampness
this rain comes
blows and goes
this breath returns again and again
wanting
desiring
i am singing as loud as i know how
but i am still learning
i am working on it
you
you must work on yourself
and the lover you may become
if you want to
i can ask
i can sing, and swoop, and dip
i fly nearby
i flutter
i type type type
you type type type
but the words are not for each other
the words
the wings
the wind beneath my heart
warm
fierce
peacefully anticipating
someone
arriving here again
at patience
7-26-13
an easy wish
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
if i had a way to reach out and stroke your back i would
just a touch to let you know i am here
i am thinking about you
and hope that you are smiling
it is an easy wish
there are so many strands between us
communication devices and channels
but this is different
i want you to feel me
i want you to notice my absence
and in that moment
i want you to remember how often i touch
not with a question or a request
just a hello
a reassurance
a nudge towards a happy direction
this is what i am imagining right now
to you
this touch
7-24-13
she will remain beautiful and undisturbed
[from a coffee love letter – poetry]
out in the world of fancy coffee shops
new girlfriends walk in the door two or three times an hour
mostly they leave without acknowledging me
it’s okay
i can still see and appreciate her
even as she sits and reads a marginal book
look at those lips
and her imagination
and good choice of snack food
how much of her beautiful body contains god
how much god do i see in curves and legs and pulse
and once that fascination has run a course
where is the gateway drug
a passage into absorption and fascination
and engagement
that grows with time
as taut fights with gravity
and eyes weather with loving days
days of loving
how i could start with her
and awaking more than both of us
awakening a universal celebration
a dance of life and love and longing rewarded
she’s tapping her toes
in beautiful shoes
and smiling at her paperback
and i’m trapped here
in noise-canceling headphones
and a secret
tap tap tap
foot to words
dream to desire
to action
to ask
to
she is fine
just there
just as she is
she doesn’t need a thing
neither do i
i have it all
an instant could transform all this
this instant is not that one
she is here
she will remain beautiful and undisturbed
and i will walk out of this coffee shop
and escape my meandering mind
for the sky
and the sun
and
whatever’s next
6-28-13
image used via creative commons: woman’ feet
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
this potential
[from a coffee love letter – poetry]
i want her to be gorgeous and a rocket scientist
or a poet
nice shoes, not gaudy shoes
brown hair would be a preference, nothing more
i’d like her to see through my bs
to know that i’m not as confident as i pretend to be
and i’d like to be safe
letting her see that truth
would be a release
i want to let go
and to relax into her arms
to nap with abandon
and share the fruits and the labor
and to enjoy the play between naps and sleep
where is fearless love born
what is the heart of trust
that never breaks
nothing is more important than this
there are many variables
i have a range of preferences
but this is non-negotiable
to have been hurt and yet soar
to know disappointment and still reach for the stars
every great journey must start from here
if the epic quest is to find love
to know how to be loved
and to fearlessly ignite
and stand beside another’s flame
in awe and joy
at seeing a reflection of your hopes
at believing again in someone else
at losing objections
and laughing at obstacles between us
i hold you here
holding my own heart
as an outstretched hand
an invitation
to dance
something cosmic and unknown
to fearlessly let go of everything
to dream and lose the dream
over and over
until we have built
a bonfire of passion and burning of vanities
a stripping of defense
even desire becomes satiated
in you
in this potential of we
in us
6-25-13
unease and marginal effect
[from The Black Pages – poetry]
i am finding a place in my heart for each of them
each of the women who’ve passed through
a little bit off to the left
slightly beneath the resentment and anger
tucking them in so gently
they won’t feel a thing
cosy and comfy together
there is a large cast of characters
the major players
a sister who left the planet with a leap
a first ex-wife who still calls for no reason
a second ex-wife who keeps showing me why
why i was so unhappy but couldn’t see it
so much has changed
her approach to love and me
is still more business than pleasure
and the minor chorus of high school sweethearts
dreams and aspirations without structure or plan
and the one, in between, woman
who cried with joy when we made love the first time
and now the others
the most recent act and ensemble cast
the kissing girl, the over-thinker
the girlfriend that nearly changed everything
i am giving them a place where i can still love them
where the lessons and experiences
have brought me to prayer or punk rock
depending on the moment
i am finding a place for them to live together
my dos equis and company
and my first true love and mother and teacher
the sister who got away
before her full message had been given
she can soothe them now
in their unease and marginal effect
she can sing to them
of my praises
she was my original champion
my muse
my
sister
6-25-13
the most beautiful girl in the world (a poem)
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
i once saw the most beautiful girl in the world
i stood beside her and talked to her
she was unafraid
i spent time with the most beautiful girl in the world
and i realized what got her there
was not something that was going to make me love her
she was centered and alert
but she was a bit too centered and alert
doors would be opened
corners would be cut
you could see in her style
that she was on guard
something was expected
the most beautiful girl in the world
actually became a bit boring after a while
she never paid for gas
she never offered her services
she wanted to be sure that no unspoken expectations would be met
i spent some time with the most beautiful girl in the world
and noticed she was not all that
her beauty was definitely more than skin deep
she was beauty through and through
and i was enamored
but i was not compelled to fall in love
there was a barrier that she enforced
she wanted something
love was not it
i saw the most beautiful girl in the world the other day
she was still beautiful
she was unaware of my presence
and in that moment I could see what was wrong
she was pained
she was hiding
she was alone
i left her there without disturbing her peace
the reverie i felt upon meeting her was spent
she did not want any further assistance
she did not need anything else
i left her in the aisle of the organic food store
looking like a beautiful and exotic bird
there are not many women with her dangerous looks
and haunting charm
and
something
missing
i felt a moment of desire for her
the most beautiful girl in the world
had to be clear
this was a business deal
there would be no exchange of affection
and she held me there at arm’s length
before the fantasy had a chance to emerge
she let it be known she was not interested
she would take my offer
she would offer nothing in return
for a moment, with the most beautiful girl in the world
that was enough
being next to her was refreshing
i would do anything to help her
for a moment, the most beautiful girl in the world was nearby
and she was within reach and within earshot
but i was told not to sing
i was given the rules
before a song was even imagined
it must be hard being the most beautiful girl in the world
of course the demands on her and desires of others are enormous
she had to defend herself
even before accepting my friendship
she had to kill the buzz
obviously it was my buzz she killed
she had learned how not to feel
she was suffering some deep inner pain
she was still beautiful, so beautiful
i could never understand that pain
she’s still around
from time to time i see her
still beautiful
still haunting and glowing in smiles and beauty
and something about her eyes
that takes me beyond myself
it must be hard
being so beautiful
in a world that feeds on beauty
that eats pretty young women
she must feel threatened
being so beautiful
is like being naked all the time
and there was no way for me to step close
without triggering the alarm
best not to even get started
with the most beautiful girl in the world
best not to even try
6-12-13
i believe, i pray, i fly
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
and if i bring poems to her and she doesn’t understand
when i sing songs and she gets bored
if i offer a casual massage and she’s too busy
what then?
and if i ask and provide opportunities
when i wait and hold out hope
can i become addicted to longing
what then?
i know what missing you feels like
before we’ve even met
i can smell you, and feel your hair in my face
i know what i have lost
and if the shower after the day on the beach
and the cool dark unfamiliar room
rough and clean white sheets
the curtains billowing in the blow of the ac
and if my longing does not call you in
and my waiting proves fruitless again
i can still send out sirens songs
and use this desire as a sail
of course i hunger for her
and a near miss is a miss completely
and a word, a poem, a song, are precious
even without an ear to whisper into
in fibers deep in my soul i know
she is nearby, doing her thing
i am not finished with my baking
these ‘projects’ are just beginning
perhaps at this moment
she would be a distraction
and from afar she is muse, lover, mother
vixen, tease, goddess, everything
i know what longing feels like
i learned to do without even when she was next to me
i can thrive alone, in desirous creation
i don’t want to, but i do
sing along little bird
bring your bright feathers into my mouth
give flight to your fantasies as well
there is time, there is time, there is always time
hearts a flutter in beautiful presence
i am still becoming more loveable
my plan is drawing you in
even as I have failed to execute in the past
i can call, and write, and throw
poems and intentions and agendas at you
i can wait and be patient
to see if you will ignite
perhaps you are that one
that madonna that brings me to god, again
again, I am ready
i believe, i pray, i fly
i believe, i pray, i fly
6-19-13
alight with desire
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
can you feel the wind blowing in your direction from me
does my smile come to mind from time to time
wishes and love poems cannot transform a light
i want a flame, a fire, a burning desire
and i’ll wait here awhile, stoking coals
and blowing kisses
6-12-13
this very moment
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
we will return to barcelona
and boats with women
and song and wine
and roses
and each action forward
is an affirmation
this thinking and
feeling
won’t get us there
i am an epic moment
waiting to be discovered
as i have discovered
myself
one word to set us free
today the word is marketing
the mantra is social media
and halfway through my solar arc
i am comfortable with my loneliness
and making peace with my dragons
since the slaying strength is long passed
how does this words for dollars thing work?
and why isn’t it word for spirit
more than just a parallel path
i am impatient and hungry
and in this flighting around
casting about
line of fire
i coil
i plan and act
and reset
i can’t see who i will become or be with
but i can stand my ground
stand in this now
and breathe
and bend
and flex
i cannot let my attention off the suppression
fire
for one second
this inner fury
if not vented and freed
can pull down the king
and his kingdom
there is no idle in the waiting
but there are also no preparations
for war
or weddings
and the throwing of lines
hexagrams and monofilament
may not return the nourishment
at this moment
yet the fire must be tended and guarded
and maybe worshipped a little
so as not to be lost
or too freely given
over and over
in the little moments of doubt
the challenge and response
must be offered
thine enemies known and unknown
and future lovers
approaching and leaving
this breaking balance is not easy to maintain
as the belief in the come
seems dim and distant
but beautiful spirits surround
like fireflies
and sisters
i require nothing of you
but the laying down of arms
the laying on of hands
the laying together
that never turns to lying
i ask nothing in return
yes yes yes
i promise
this very moment
and. this. one.
is enough to sustain
and stoke
my warm heart
6-6-13
these configurations of we
[from Misconfigurations of Love – poetry]
such oddly wonderful
these configurations of we
emailing poems
to ourselves
wrestling with a cat
to get out of the way
to say to Siri(tm)
that I love you still
but she can’t get it right
she’s missing the point
in bed by 10
my brain thinks i must’ve gone crazy
writing by the light
of the little luminescent screen
so as not to wake too fully
by the light
if i miss
it will come round again
surely
as i dream
in words
it’ll
come. back. around.
as recycled sadness
or drone strikes of self defeat
best to interrupt this beauty sleep
to scratch one out
to abandon thoughts of hope
prayer-songs of joy
this expression
will be found a hundred times
and lost just as many
plus one
until I have given in
and voiced the electrical language
the impulse back to me
and saying how much i miss you
again and
again
like a prayer
in a leaky boat of joy
___
full stop
___
that’s enough
for now
to return
to the sargasso sea of sleep
and more chemistry of dreams and online dating
and recalibrations
of my brain
this is not what insomnia looks like
this is joy
i promise
this
is
joy
back to sleepy-time tea
and this capture
like a camomile compress
to the mind
or some ungodly tonic
to the stream
that messes up my hair
with even more hope
more orchestrated chaos
even more
forms
for
words
aimed at love songs
or losing this sadness
and remembering the pain
that you had become
for me
this is an anniversary of sorts
this moment
this night
a triumph – i hope
it is too early to tell
june is hardly summer
you are hardly gone
i am barely breathing
and yet declaring independence
and dancing
and praying
and songs no longer meant for you
still about you
maybe
like a white whale
i’ve been chasing since my twenties
i can only write that now
in my 50th year
fully empowered
yet again
surrounded by cats
and new, healthier friends
and the old ones
who remained on my side
like the old tennis shoes
they are
we are not
they are not on your side
they have rallied around me
with some effort
and belief
in building on truth
and something that lasts
passing from easy
into difficult
and even unspeakable
see this here
(points at chest)
won’t be stopped
until the impulses stop
to connect
and connect
and connect
and connect
and connect
and
and i can get back to sleep
surrounded by cats of different colors
aroused by my light
and an awakened me
that might mean food
if they play their parts just right
a deep breath
and a letting go
letting you go
count backwards from 10
it will only hurt for a second
before you’re gone
i’m gone
and night returns to its rightful place
in constellations of time
as an ease
a rest
a peace
and not this
—this—
this
—this—
this
and not this
incessant scratching
5-6-13
and in that moment, when you knew
[from The Black Pages – poetry]
couldn’t you believe in something so pure
so cracked and desirable as us
don’t you think weathering the storm
would’ve been better than this
let us orbit and veer along
a few. more. fucking. years.
not that there was much fucking
i’m sorry
i don’t mean to be mean
i’m sorry
i’m not
what must’ve been the point when you snapped
even before i suspected damage
how frightening to make the decision
to seek counsel
to weigh the options, pros, cons
of hearts and young minds and us
i know it was not a snap decision
you had marshalled your resources and assembled a team
there was no transgression but there must’ve been
a moment
when the fall outweighed the Summer
when you turned away, rather that towards
and in that moment, when you knew
what was it like
did you pity me and my ignorant irritations
did you warn me of your failing light
when you finally said, “I don’t love you.”
it must’ve been a phrase you had tried on before
practiced with your team and counselors
a firmness in the declaration of war
as the waves of rapture broke over me
i understood where your passion had been hiding
not under the bed, or in the stress of life
it was being withdrawn in preparation for the end
it wasn’t for me to rekindle
the flame had been deliberately
put out
i didn’t recover well from the shock
as I sent my messengers for help
i didn’t stand as a partner in battle
i fell like a defeated child
mute with uncertainty and fear
but I rallied
i assembled a war council of my own
sending treaties and love letters
alternating course and coercive vollies
that found no receiver
until finally, i surrendered
the bloodshed never came
there was no fight in fighting your lover
there was no glory in losing gracefully
there was nothing left
to fight for
6-4-13
it’s about time
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
and then i open my mouth and I have no idea what comes out
i’m nervous, in love, tortured to make contact
and nothing
it’s not that absence makes the heart grow at all
absence is just lack of you, face time, touch time, touch
all these virtual pokes and likes and touch-ins
are no match for the rush of time, tic, time, tic
it’s about time
it’s about time
5-30-13
i could be back here in an hour
[from The Black Pages – poetry]
i am down but i was up just a little bit ago
feelin high singin songs smiling through the light in the hotel room window
but now i’m down, can’t find what’s on the ground in my mind
i’m underneath, in-between, i’ll be right back with who i really wanted to be tonight
if you’ll excuse me please, it won’t take but a day or two or a week
sometimes
when i hit it just right
i could be back here in an hour
swimming in the pool
i could
but nothing is cool about this foolishness today
nothing is colder than the grip of icy fingers across the back of my neck
i won’t be down for long, cause i don’t play this way
but when i can, i let the time and the rest and the touching lead the way
just wanna be with me, wanna be talky or play a game?
ya wanna go fishing?
go somewhere different
we can have coffee in a new cafe, everyday, don’t ya think?
cause there’s nothing to be done for it that ain’t already be done
there ain’t no vibe that a kicking rock song can’t find an edge
something so pretty, something of sparkling bliss
that can pick me up, take me out of this state
i’m a bout half as tired as when i went to sleep last night
all the words and projects and figuring it out
never gave my gentle thoughts equal time
i’ve been like this before, and if i can move beyond the bum
i can sometimes find my way into fascination
fascination and creativity are doors out of this hole i’m in
singing connects all of my arts with word, soul, resonance, breathing…
performing for people sets me free, shows all of my parts
9-7-09
a poem, written fragment of hope before the demise…
This is a list of todos to help with my emergence out of depression was ahead of this love letter to myself:
MUSIC •
TENNIS
SEX
PLAYING WITH KIDS • and FAMILY
swimming
seeing live music •
performing music
writing music •
writing •
poetry •
publishing
The blue dots represent parts of my life currently reactivated today 5-27-13. With a little bit of effort and good fortune I could light up the other tasks shortly.
you’re a song i want to sing
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
you’re a song i want to sing
a mode of being I want to embrace
you’re like middle c
a shore to my ocean
moving into and out of you
without touching
never, not touching
you’re a song i want to sing
in a key of life i’ve never known
and words are no match for the feeling
and the feeling is no indicator of the depth
there’s so little information
and yet, so much to the sweep and sound
of your voice, breath, breathing
like waves and whispers
you’re a song I want to sing
and i can’t decide where to begin
and that’s okay
you never end
as we drift and ebb
5-23-13
creating believing solo
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
i aimed another poem at her again last night
and loosed it like a prayer
somewhat unsure of my intention
less sure of who she might be
what she might like
there are no limits in pursuit
in anticipation of the join
i am full
and full of myself
in love
in this state
at the edge of the unknown
alone
with time as an unlimited resource
a currency more precious and rare
and even the idea of you
becomes a sail i can ride
a wordstream love jam of song
this is me creating
believing
solo
5-21-13
modern love notes
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
leaving just enough silence between us
wondering what you’re doing, thinking, feeling
i hold my tongue and text and messages of love
this can be nothing more than my own reflection
seeking a replacement, and shelter, and song
surely love does not ignite with such simplicity
a puppy love, a projection, a trajectory of my own imagination
still
i seek messages in the clouds and stars at night
and i listen on all channels
erasing and deleting
words
of
love
and
longing
because it is too soon
and you are busy, and beautiful, and pleasurable
to all around you
and when I am
given the chance
i will breathe you in
i will hesitate just a little
i will tease back at the growing heat
and
i
will
know
again
5-20-13
endless running
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
she opened her mouth like she opened her mind
i could not stay there
a language i did not warm up to
running, all this endless running
she was fit and pretty
and must have heard a similar discord
she paid, but didn’t return my texts
5-17-13
anticipating the rain with you
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
i am anticipating the ocean with you
the rain and the clouds
the sounds and the smells
of you
i am anticipating the touch of your hand
the taste of your lips
and how i feel when i think of being
with you
i am anticipating your next move
falling into step
and falling asleep
beside you
i am anticipating how you sound
when you laugh or moan
in an instant i can almost
imagine you
i am anticipating someone who can light the sky
silence the night
walk down beaches in the dark
holding you
i am anticipating the disruption of everything i imagine
of plans and hopes and dreams
now even more real than my hopes
about you
i am anticipating
5-12-13
she believed in kissing
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
she opened her mouth so wide i fell inside
and kisses slipped us into a dreamlike state
i was open and aware and allowing the momentum
we careened along the tracks like a train without brakes
and she sounded the alarm
or at least alerted the brakeman
we slowed without any major damage
but the pause was enough
i was grateful
she was a fantastic kisser
she believed in kissing
so did i
and she held many of the qualities I wanted
or said I wanted
i did not prepare for a boarding of my train
when she began unpacking her bags
and getting ready to join my sleeping car
i knew that we needed more than the attention of the brakeman
i called an emergency stop
she protested
she cajoled
she made me feel tired
i was not ready for a showdown
i did not want to force anyone off the train
i was not aware of selling or giving tickets
she taught me the sacred art of kissing
she thrilled and laughed and was hurt
when I asked her to leave
i was not prepared to put up a fight
i was also not prepared to allow a forced boarding
i left her standing at the station
she called out and waved
she said wonderful things and then angry things
she would not be boarding the train any time soon
or ever
but her kisses will be missed
and the heavy moment of having to hurt someone else
for any reason
even if the reason is self-preservation
she opened her mouth
and i danced on her tongue
and found myself lost inside her
and when i woke up
when i saw the baggage she was bringing
i
stopped
the
train
and
let
her
off
4-29-13
