10 Monday Sep 2018
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Tags
Afterlife, Death, Death Poems, Eternity, Hope, Infinite, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Souls, Yearning
Sometimes, missing feels like stone,
a fear that what seems over,
really is over. To be alone,
is no small thing, even though,
it seems, we always are.
Between us, an invisible thread
throws itself out, and stretches—
have you seen a silk thread
blowing itself out with the wind,
reaching, reaching—how far it reaches,
attached to nothing, but air.
31 Friday Aug 2018
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Tags
Alone, Aloneness, Conversations With Maggie, Loneliness, Longing, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry
There is only joy in love, she said.
But what about grief, I asked,
The grief that feels like stone?
That’s fear, she said, when you think
love is gone. Love is never gone.
20 Tuesday Mar 2018
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Tags
aspen, Aspen Trees, Bird Poem, Bird Poems, Birds, First Day of Spring, Loneliness, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Robin, solstice, Spring, Winter, Winter poem
I think the aspen is happy today,
The way the robin perched
On its bare branches.
The skin of her feet,
The skin of that branch,
One warm body pulsing blood,
The other pulsing with spring sap.
To be touched after so long,
As your buds begin to break
The surface of what separates:
Your ability to drink of the sun,
And that long and naked loneliness.
07 Wednesday Mar 2018
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Tags
Germany, Hawaii, Home, Island Fever, Loneliness, Longing, Mauna Lani, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Poland, Prague, Suffering, Travel
It’s a real thing, he says,
Musing of moving from Mauna Lani
To Austria, Poland, Prague, or Germany.
Haven’t been to the ocean
In three months, he says,
As he pecks out letters,
One by one, on the keyboard.
Of course, we later joke
About wanting island fever:
A life absent of snow, of the ice
We slipped upon, of gray days.
But to trade the aspen,
With its bare arms,
And its crystaling rime
And silence, the way it pleads,
The way it trembles
Among its roots, from start
To start to start–
That anticipation, that loneliness,
That incredible wonder—
Even in paradise, the heart
Has its hole. It has its terrible
Brokenness, and its frantic
Longing to be away.
15 Thursday Dec 2016
Posted in Uncategorized
The cold that is loneliness–
Ice, snow, hunger.
Did we care
The days had shortened?
Dark mornings,
Dark afternoons,
We stumbled, it’s true,
But don’t we all stumble,
Slide on the ice–
A dangerous toboggan
Of metal and glass and rubber
Just sliding,
sliding, sliding.
Where will it stop–
Against a sign, a bank of snow,
An oncoming car?
We turn the wheel
Left, then right, then left
And tap on the brakes,
Hoping they will catch
Onto something solid.
My love, turns out
You were the solid thing
On which I caught.
