on your back porch
 you do not see mountains 
or ocean waves
the town of Falerna 
or the promenade to the sea;

there's no distance 
or depth
in this view.
I watch you
sitting -
looking out at 
the garden you built
on the land that's your own.

Is it the sustenance,
the stability 
you see?
Is it the 
the existence -
are you seeing your reflection?
Answers were never 
in your words.

I find them
 in that small space
the tomato stalks
and sunflowers

He looks out
at the plot of land
the one that
 offered the grandest of gifts.

I don't tell him in words;
that's not our shared language.

 he gave us life 
 and in return
 i lived.  

she was there

looking at me and

holding the son; 
the repair: 

blue and white
hair the color of -
there aren't words
she was she
and me and all in;

holding him
i crossed over
the waning crescent,
held and stroked.

nothing was asked of me
I was present -
I was:
and she loved
and that was all that was.

"Does she have a name?"

no name, yet.
she wasn't there for

she was there to
show love
to offer
to nurture

and I 
to receive.

four tens

give and take
and more give than take

whiskey regrets and bathroom falls
stabilizing (humbling) promises of love
the shooting star across the Michigan
Milky Way 

 off roading to the last campsite
 lone walks with the Red Woods
 towards the vineyards of Napa

 found nerve in the mountains of Whistler
 And jealousy turned envy
with the sound of arpeggios 
new friendship
built on the chords
of his guitar

opa and oma
nanna and nanno
red lights 
and waterboat champagne

no feelings preceded
or warned
for the great pause
except for
the desire 
for rest
turned to 
months of 
homemade food 
movie nights
furry companions turned family

Stillness in chaos.

Nanno gardens
at 93
the world marches 
and cries;

The world moves.

Nature roars.
I visit with 
backpacks and boots
I camp at its waters
Skinny dipping
in the great lakes
Lane Cove is where peace
dances with the dragonflies;

He holds me when I'm scared. 

Masks are worn
for more reasons than hiding, now
more parts to protect
the nation votes
one side wins
the other (why is there the other)

four tens
turn to three sevens

I'm unsure
which mask I'll bring
with me

What I will take is my 
love of what came before.

I'll take the life i've created
and the life i've been given.

I'll take the joy
and I'll (try) to give even more.



and in the end
or the beginning

which ever end
you start to
untangle or
string together

it's in loving them


that will


which ever
frame you
it’ll be the
same picture

It’s not one
or the other

I keep trying to
picture either

and they begin
with loose ends
and finish
in tight knots

I’d rather hold

if they let me.


I know she came before

that summer
and the beach
the balcony plants
the orange tree

I understand
you said
you’ve moved on

I’m wondering
if moving on 
for you
means holding 
her space

while I
hold out
my heart

wondering if 
you’ll take it
while giving
your own
to her.


fall to my 
to the
crevice of my neck.

"What are you doing?"

I ask,
holding his face
between my hands.

"I don't want you to run out."

He kisses my forehead, again.

"Then I need 10 more."

He takes my face in his hands.


he responds,
looking satisfied.

"I gave you 12."
about the people

the ones who 
slip off their coat
and place it on the seat
or above
in the train's 

about the
ones who 
keep their coats 

the ones who haven't 
yet settled in

the ones who are
ready to leave

I think there's a real difference
between the two.