Standing Water

April 13, 2016

The sea was grey,
So much so that when
You looked, your eyes
Couldn’t quite tell where
The horizon really was.
Compacted wet sand is
Terrific for holding shape,
Each paw print a smudge
That remained long after
Her feet had left the beach.

The air smelled of salt, and
The ebb and flow of waves
Repeated their song like a
Pair of giant watery lungs-
Inhale and exhale.

Every wave brought me
Closer, into the eddies and
Pools between the rocks.
I hear her splash her way
Back to me, whining and
Barking for me to return.
But here is where I’ll stay.


Graviora Manent

May 13, 2009

Searching for the Dog Star
A slight squeak to my left,
Like a bad shopping cart
I sign my name for the
Twenty-third time
When you walk in behind me
I can tell it’s you before you
Even say a single word
It’s not that difficult really
I recognize your smell:
An open window in
September, the scent
Of flowers across the street.

You hear it when you
Hold your breath
The blue city slows for
Just a moment
Waiting for you to exhale
When I stroll up to you,
Like some kind of tawdry
Libertine, with a bow
I dismiss your worried
Glances and doubts
Melt away when you
Feel your knees buckle
Temperatures flaring
Your hands turn white
As the blood rushes
Up and down;
When I look at your
Mouth, I am wondering
What your lips taste like.
Brash and unrelenting
Rain beats rhythmically
Against the hotel’s
Ceramic plated roof
Consequences flew out
The barred windows
As soon as you came in,
Illuminating places
Light never sees.