Tag Archives: love

For The Sky, For Love

The lights of the glass mansion shine in this September night,

a distant star, a tiny sun, a light of another life, not ours.

She in her red party dress. stockings, high heels off, running

her feet over the water of the darkened pool, singing a sad song.

Me in now untucked shirt, jacket and slacks, black socks,

glass of champagne, watching her, as if she were a fey come above.

The lightning bugs are long gone, and there’s quiet here, but for the hungry

insects and humming stars, and the peaceful fury of our wild hopes.

She is a child of the water, but the wormwood of this pool, or stinging

regrets that have made there home in it, but it’s all we have tonight.

I am a child of the air, of the warm autumn winds and winter gales,

one or the other, blink of an eye from September to February.

We walk hand in hand to the river, crystal and cold, and pure because

it’s teeth eat our blood and anything unguarded.

We strip naked and walk in, crying out with the chill, and the stars

are all the light of our cracked spirits, as we touch, we kiss.

Beneath the water, dark and velvet blue, one in the dark, in the silence,

coming up in an embrace, those stars in her eyelashes showing His Blessing.

We float, side by side, naked and shivering, watching the night sky above,

knowing we’ll be back her again, after the universe spins back to us.

She sings that song, that still prayer of yearning, for the sky, for love,

for a moment’s peace as The Devil makes dissonant all thoughts of tenderness.

And for a moment, our wild hopes are pure, and the hungry insects are full,

and the stars are enough, to light our way back to Eden, to each other.


The Great, Grey Sea

She’s asleep in the back seat, at peace it seems.
Maybe she’s having sweet and beautiful dreams.

A soft love song plays on the radio, soothing me.
I’m not stopping this care until we make it to the sea.

The stars are more than I’ve ever seen, angels at rest.
We’re leaving home, those bastards, devils of the west.


I glance back in the rearview mirror, at her sweet face.
A cottage on a barrier island, that is just the right place.

I don’t want we’re running into, but know what from.
A tarnished wedding band, and a piece of land, got the sum.

She’s sleeping without the demon, for the first time tonight.
We’re hounded by things both within and beyond our sight.


A love song can put magic spells to the madness you feel.
Make it a solid thing, a thing you can believe is real.

The road’s wide open before us, and hope, if nothing for sure.
Love and hope, a place to be still, that is the angels sacred cure.

The sea changes and is still the same, like her, like her wild heart.
She will be scarred forever, but we have a chance at a new start.


Sleep and dream, my love, we’ll be free in the morning.

Warm Like Eden

Long and pale red hair, falling over slim shoulders.

Slim shoulders kept safe by a soft, light brown jacket.

A sweet face content in a pale ale and BLT.

Safe. I feel safe watching her.

I said “Hello.”, touching her soft jacket.

It felt warm like Eden.

Angel in a swank sports bar, as hell follows a lost faith’s pale horse.

She hugs me, and I believe the stars will remember us.

A hit of hope in her kindness, and her light, as I lose track of God and man.

And then home, to call them up for war.

She’s A Surfer Girl

She’s a surfer girl, and she’s  been out all day

in the golden Hawaiian sun, a goddess,

a vision in distant blue waters.

I come now, end of my shift, as the sun

goes low, already drinking a magnum

of red wine

as she sits out there, in the velvet light,

sitting on her surfboard, looking out

into the sea.

One last wave, as she turns away from

the horizon and it’s secrets, madness

and glides, one with the water.

She comes to shore, and I offer the bottle

as she sits down next to me, takes a swig,

still looks out into that dark ocean.

“What do you see?” I ask, taking the bottle.

“The God That Made The World.” She says,

“But The Devil is coming very near.”

She sighs, takes the bottle and a swig,

gives my shoulders a squeeze, than leaves

with the bottle and any hope for tomorrow.

All Was Beautiful

The war was over. The war was coming.

The war was eternal.

We had but a moment to catch our breaths.

Me and her, on the back of an old Honda,

riding to the lush trees, high mountains,

and first snows of a just begun winter.

The air cold and sharp, burning our lungs.

The sky grey as the eyes of a distant God.

The road open, deceptively endless.

In the distance, on the border, canon fire.

We could not escape the war, or loss, or death.

Just pretend for a moment, that all was beautiful.

The motorbike whined and I pulled the throttle.

She held on tight, and the blur was a mischievous dream.

Just pretending for a moment, that all was beautiful.

Teal II

Her hair dyed mint and teal, like summer.

A Holy Afternoon, she’s shelving books.

In pages I’m looking for God, Home and

a young woman named Alexandria.

That hair of hers, the color of a favorite toy,

a ’65 Mustang, I pretended to drive to LA.

What worlds does she know, what worlds shine,

in soft brown eyes, in the curated childhood chapel?

It might not be Pandemonium in me, not even a suburb,

just a lens that needs cleansed, and maybe we’d be infinite.

I make jokes checking out, and try to make them magic spells.

It never seems right to ask about a show down at the club.

But words I use to try and find the sky, and learn her truth,

and capture the light in these lines, that shine from soft, brown eyes.

An Abandoned A-Frame Church, On The Edge of the Kansas Plain, Late August

End of a cul-de-sac in an abandoned suburb,
surrounded by a plain of golden wheat,
as golden as the sun.

Musty and broken A-frame church,
mid-century bright and pretty and full
of light, shines for no one, or only one.

The starburst cross on the wall,
the altar empty and broken,
by our greed, restlessness undone.


I sleep in the old nursery, with a happy Jesus
and bright colors and a nostalgia glow
of a happier time before doubt.

I write words in my yellow, legal tablet,
trying to touch God, be touched by God,
in the ruins of a world left to those left out.

I remember, seeing something in the sun, once,
in an August morning, so bright and pure
that my child mind couldn’t help but shout.


The sanctuary still glows gold in late summer,
in the morning glow that may even be a Sunday morning
as I wait for her to come back from the war in Amarillo

I pray for her safety and bravery, and to know beyond this world,
when I wrap her in my arms again, the weight of her reality
and the softness of her kisses, the harsh breath from a cigarillo

and that we will be one flesh, and one spirit, complete, total,
made new in God’s sight and the musty gold and holy light
of this old church so full of light, as the fading trees still lush billow.

Paladin’s Proposal

My love, my angel,
I bow at your feet.
I make myself small,
humble and open.
I am a knight, offering you
my battle scarred sword.
I am a man, offering you
my life scarred heart.
I am a man, offering you,
submission and adoration.
My kingdom, my secrets,
my light, and my darkness.
My heart, mad and wild,
with it’s blood and desires.
My mind, with it’s dreams,
it’s fears, it’s hopes for tomorrow.
My hands, too often clenched,
always open, tender to you.
My eyes, too see your light,
and the stars shining through.
I raise my head, as I am on my knees,
as I am small and humble before you.
The sword offered freely, for you to take,
to show I serve you, I am your champion.
My heart races, my mind swims in love,
my tongue is silent, waiting.
Your answer, your choosing, your heart,
will they be given, will mine be taken?
And you stroke my cheek, and kiss my head,
pull me close to, so tender.
My love, my angel,
I am yours.

A Thousand Miles Distant

> I lay awake in bed, propped up on one arm, watching her sleep.
> She is dreaming, sighing, restless, but escaping from slow time.
> I lay down, lay my head to hers, so desperate to hear her thoughts.
> So desperate to close the distance, even touching, so we are one.
> The world out there is on fire, and the angels are not swooping in.
> We have our little place of solace, we have each other, we have love.
> But the flames of the world could come through, turn it all to ashes.
> Angels are not cavalry, but demons are eternal, unfeeling
> bushwhackers.
> In the morning, work and all that drudgery will be here, fill our day.
> I still can’t rest, find peace in the night, or in having her near, my
> own.
> I close my eyes, sigh, send a prayer to her, to that frantic dream
> world,
> that paradise may be ours one day, if not in this hollow, than in the
> life after.

Will We Go Together To The Sea?

In the mountains, by the Alleghany River,
we hang out in a bare white room,
listening to chirpy pop music,
talking about God a mile a minute.
Your hair is pink again, and you
wear that ragged army jacket
your dad wore when he was in,
torn jeans, worn down Chuck Taylors.
God, something more, escape,
all the scattered broken glass thoughts
tossed out onto the floor helter-skelter,
making pretty colors for a moment.
I smoke another ciggie, try and keep up
and add my own colors and shards,
though I should just let you talk,
have the floor, and just follow you down.
We go outside this tired and weighed
down house that slumps it’s shoulders
and sighs with the excess of the wet winter
and misty morning, never ending rain.
You put you head on my shoulder.
Impulsively, I kiss your bright hair.
I think you smile. You don’t pull away.
You take my hand in yours.
The river down below, you say,
is like us in  time, just flowing on,
until the end, death, the sea,
where we are all together in heaven.
We are quiet then, and still, and the
come down is sweet and warm
in our sleepless eyes and thrumming hearts.
I want to travel with you, down to the sea.