Here is a collection poems that mean a lot to me. Not only are they beautiful, but they express a lot about the way I feel at the moment as well. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do. Love, me.

The weightlessness of love

Dropped with a rock from the outstretched arms of Galileo in 1492,
we would not yet have hit the ground.
Encased to our ankles in fresh concrete poured by the disreputable associates of Al Capone,
we would swim effortlessly with fishes.
Punctured cruelly perhaps by a scatter of tacks
we could fill your tire with love.
Placed in a warm bath on a cool day we would float like bubbles
you could wash your hair with us.

Let me describe for you his lips

He kissed me first.

He will deny it
but he did.

I was there at the time

at least
in the beginning.

I was fresh kahawai
straight out of
the salt

shaken once or twice

then split
head to tail
into fine pieces
of white flesh

and placed

on his tongue
to melt like ice.

I was a frail child
wrapped securely
in blankets.

I was wine
swallowed straight
from the bottle

...............
...............

I do not know
what happened
after that...

Its belly full of bread

Love poked me
in the eye at first

hurt me in the
chest next

where it went
after that brought
no pain at all

although I ached.

Then I made
my belly
rise and fall

I was not hungry
any more.

The place inside me where he was

It is possible to say

now:

he was my holy day

that day my city was built

that morningI robbed the
natives blind and

threw a generation of
my finest to death
for a ridiculous war.

He was that day
I walked with Jesus
through the streets
and knocked him

blow by blow

into the wood.

In time to come

when people walk over me,
tending sheep,

they might kick
with luck
an empty bottle or two,

a shard of pottery

and laugh at what we thought
would hold water forever.

Be sure of one thing,

I loved him.

When all else falls
let this be the one small
vessel a goatherd
lifts out of the sand.

He was my time.

There was no
before
before him,

and afterwards
can now
only ever be

afterwards.

I used to think
I would not die.

Now I know otherwise.


These poems are dedicated to...