Poem, 2/1

the first

morning we awoke together broke

fast on the first day of the first

month we talked of dreams and

planned our next re-

union. talking to the thai

order taker i heard vocalized in the re-

peated numbers a credit

to your kindness. registered. we

ate and watched stupid teevee,

wondering what resonates

enough to laugh. these

days repeated their thrust, pre-

dicting a sweet opening.

Poem, 5/20

For Greg

two boys in parallel

two lanky bodies laying atop mom’s

long silver dodge caravan

roof rackless

recklessly in early spring boy love,

discovering how close bodies can be

without touching.

then, a hand, exploringly inches

towards the energy of another

man’s hand and

the first spark of skin belies the

resistance within.

yet still, there’s that thrill.

Poem, 3/18


Into goodness and purity we leapt,

impossibility aside and full on. Rapture

like an ocean, available.

It’s good to know, and yes, to have

felt your arms and warmth

like a continent, solid,

but just as divided. Tender

is the rock that cannot be moved.

Poem, 7/17

yes, summer,

I accept your grandiosities.

the relentless dusky colors,

the honeysuckle, the shrub rose,

ev’ry hilly meadow seems a dream.


how you show your stillness

is a whispy memory. so much bursting

and so much calm.

I wait for the road home to change;

I do not wait for the cold.

Poem, 8/28

[to be read aloud whitman style] Flight 2033

first lynn, then winthrop and hull, little harbors, clusters of white boatlets and green trees like shrublets, the entire north shore against the vast blue, bank right, i knew we’d see ptown, but not the entire arm of the cape and the south shore, how it all connects, how simple it looks up here.

this is why i like travel, and why i love to fly: it simplifies and minimizes, brings everything into big perspective.

it’s a beautiful day to be up here, warm on the ground, little clouds and little lakes, and look, there’s providence, tiny tf green, a cluster of small buildings among so much water, and island of a town among the green.

i like flying because sometimes i like getting there faster, knowing there’s a simpler way, knowing we’re already above hartford and i can see clear through to long island and the smaller islands around it, shelter island, and beyond.

this is new england: some farms, some water, clustered towns, and so much green and so much blue.

perspective brings everything together and clarifies. connects that which seems disparate, a different state or highway, a different way of realizing everything’s connected.