Beyond the Mist

First cold hands, then warm you Soon sheets of macrolove Enveloped me and you Like a front that’s come in “You silly,” you said “It doesn’t die,” you said And now, fat raindrops Fall...

In last night’s phone call Our moods, hers and mine, were Like these dark trees Standing up to the blazing sun. Reassuring ourselves that No matter how it burns, scalds and rankles us It is the sun that sets in...

I write these poems imagining
  That you are reading them
Which then makes me imagine
  That you are seeing the heart of me

What if I look straight on While you look at me As we pass by And your heart leaps And catches my shirt button Do you think I would hold it carefully And put it in my pocket, forever mine? Or would I let it fall in my...

I write to you pretending I wrote to no one in particular; as though we are strangers at last; Why then my heart is heavy when you replied, as though we will be strangers forever? One from the vault, scribbled heart...

If you let yourself go fat, and a bit of you begins to be amused by the world’s tantrums, And another bit of you is a witness to this amused you but in a passing way, then, my friend, there’s hope for you...