love poems

love poems


1.

out here in the clear november center

of etching and numeracy, dying sun and

fleshly walking,

I light my own imagined heart

and hold to sky in time and you,

in time and chime and fall

of bell

the wholemark, the

flaming sycamore

shirt from the laundry.

pick it up, huh?

my love my best my lost

bride?

the smoothing of empty

clothes is the nature

of love understood

and talked to the self. located

among the trees we come to leafhood

slowly enough. don’t you think? I myself

have found the poem

in open world and the twist

of the oak. found it in your body thus. found it

on the stairs to the open,

the night.


2.

there’s more space outside me than in, though the space is the almost

but death. and only when touched as by god as he comes

am I open to sudden and endless. with you

I was given. not god but the sense of the

whole. came to me my melancholy. in you tumbled all the parts

made the one

where broken pieces aren’t,

both hands rising up in sound

of all one flesh.



3.

it isn’t that I don’t know human

petulance and grief and rage

and cheap revenges raised to art. I do. I cringe

in memory. I know I’m just a walker through. I know you’re sick

as hell. I know me too is not too well

and marked up pretty bad. no illusions. but,

ah,

look what the all of it

gave us. to do with as we would. and where

are we now in broken trance,

eyeless in useless as

zoo.




4.

walking out at night across the lights, big ones small ones christmas kids

love them, me too. and

god my feet are big and coat

a swinging furl of manuscript and canvas high

moon looking down

at my feet at the curves and curls and blocks

of built stuff

lit up,

all in stride.

piano comes with me on edge

of polish.

I got

rhythm,

wish it were

you.


5.

love poem love poem. shadow shadow.

the Shadow had Margo at night in the silverware. my language is full

of the sound of the real coming fake. it has to be gone through.


no way down the corner river, no way through the rye.

here’s the sign:

we were happy then and didn’t know it.

what a sign, huh?

it has to be gone through. its own

mangle.


there isn’t a single thing missing but god how it’s jumbled.

love poem. dead in the water with marble and cameras.

all I want for christmas is


the best.

you know how hard I try?

that hard.




6.

my wonderful one

is all I know


a waltz of

course of course.


someone

sings it in my head, this


morning, lost, ecstatic in the spread

of vision, the trees the smoke the


sappy traffic lights my

wonderful one.


one step two step

twirl like a kid in


the world

out of time.