from "Sonnet," (work in progress, third line)

memory is creative

filling in between

the shadow and the light

something new between

what is thought

and what is seen

- -

now

exists

on the cusp

of when

- -

such naïve terms:

still I wake

into a new sun

to wrestle my crystalline fears

with love and hope

for they shield

my metaphorical heart

as I naively long

to see

her eyes come

for me

- -

so many unspoken words

(like limits of secret pacts

these borders we cannot cross

without learning  new language)

to speak to one another

- -

To find water at a stop in the alps

I jumped off the train

going from Vienna to Venice.

Lisa called to hurry,

flakes sparkled the night like stars;

I danced with snow for the second time.

- -

then there

you are

already

within

the familiar

- -

the air forms to your body

without effort

I breathe you in

- -

not so much a matter of will,

as it’s a matter of will not.

- -

a rose unfolds despite its beauty;

the weed despite our disdain:

he longs and obsesses

as easily as she coyly

plays with her hair

while laughing at him

- -

intent

(December 2011)