He respects the line 
the invisible barrier
that cuts and swerves
what is and what
could be

(The other assures trust)

But my goodness -
There are moments
the craving is insatiable

Let that line
Shatter it in
whispered gasps

Just for a night

He is too good
that makes
testing the line
all the more

And what are boundaries
but lines meant to
the guarded

You know that
all too well


have i told you
the realization
i've come to
as the fireworks 
and time told us
to start again

i've determined
that most (all) 
of the problems i encounter
are of my own 

they belong to me
and in this conclusion

behind the regret and
the defensiveness 

lives the answer
that all along
i've had the power
and potential
to heal.


There's a sort of 
pause -
a break.

Writing about how good 
how easy
it is, being with you.

There’s parts of me that 
never learned 
to describe
all the ways 
your kindness

Your patience

What words can
express peace
and the glow in
my chest

When I look at you
as you sleep next to me
one arm draped over
my body

You fall asleep holding me.

And the delay
in writing of
the internal experience
of being with you

maybe it'll be temporary
I know words for pain.

It’s the good feelings
I’m still learning.


behind every shining
and mention

lives the truth of
the esteemed

the person 
in the world of
and wishes

day after day
and into the night

dreams and terrors

do you think these meet her ears
and fall to the floor

burrow beneath the skin
she is not infallible.

"Go live -
I'll keep these
stories safe."

The esteem exists
in the trust between people
in vulnerability.

Therapists listen 
they try their best
to live fully 
knowing truths of life
so many attempt
to keep 
locked away 
unpacked in


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 do not 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.