It’s hard to remember we swim in an ocean
of great love, so easy to fall into bickering
like little birds at the feeder
One a.m., the two of us holding hands, naked
in bed, in a second-floor room in Galway.
She wandered to him
through a crowd of thousands
before an outdoor concert by the Grateful Dead.
In the hallways of attachment
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain, Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and … Continue reading
the words we didn’t say I take a bite of my lunch silence sour and salt This afternoon I sit on my porch, proud of all I’ve won, thinking of … Continue reading