It was easier for him
to pull the trigger and
bury a bullet right in
her forehead from a
distance. But as his shadow
grew nearer the powerful
emotions, and memories
came closer and stronger.

Suddenly he recalled
a memory of both of
them seated either side
in a languid restaurant.
A blue breathless melody
whispering in each
of their ears. And a
stew of smells sailing
up their noses.

Grief showed up uninvited,
a quiet knock I didn’t hear
until the door creaked open
and she stepped in,
mud on her boots,
rain in her hair.

She didn’t speak at first.
Just sat in my favorite chair,
dripping onto the rug,
and tracing the rim of my coffee cup
with fingers like winter wind.

She rearranged the furniture.
Everything was out of place.

She hung old photographs in the hallway
that whispered to me as I passed by.

Who am I that you love me?
An enchantress beguiling you
with potions and incantations
that illicit your devotion?

An illustration strolling from
the glossy pages of a magazine
with an arsenal of finery.
A well-known femme fatale?

A showgirl with undulations
and a swing that hypnotizes.
Feathers and bejeweled bodysuits,
provocative in their sway?

Learned professor, prolific author
disseminating knowledge to
younger generations, thirsty for
tutelage in my expertise?

The Holy Spirit planted
A very special seed that day
In a pure virgin’s womb,
Putting God’s plan into play.

Glorious, promised seed
From Heaven above
Sent to Earth by the wonder
Of His divine love.

When Gabriel, the angel,
Announced God’s plan,
It was complex for the young
Virgin Mary to understand.

Yet, in dedication, she agreed,
“Let it be as you said.
Let it be fulfilled in me.”
Unsure of what’s ahead.

Upteenth instance where yours truly
experienced assault upon hindquarters.

Upon my poet’s page I’d wrote
of unrequited love: I quote:
“I cherish you, my maiden sweet.
Without you I am incomplete.”

A lifetime later on, through tears,
I read, what’s faded with the years.
Yet still, in poet’s paltry line,
lives love, which broke this heart of mine.

We make a room by entering it.
Breath before voice, heat before word.
The space notices. It tightens, sighs, leans in.

Curtains adjust their drape. Shadows lose shape.
You brush your shoulder on the doorframe-
now it remembers skin.

The mirror shows us what it couldn’t before:
not reflection, but relation. Your glance spills over
the rim of the table and the wood warps sweetly.

I watch your arm move and the air
curve around it like a ribbon in wake.
We’re not just here- we’re hereing,
co-authoring the weather

From seagulls
to Victor Frankel,
finding yourself
may be painful!

Taking time
to understand,
what really lies
within a man!

The moment can
be empowering,
if you allow
for a flowering.

The nature
of interdependence,
causes you to
find self relevance.

Aesthetically you
produce self evidence,
that takes you to
your own defense

No one ever
proffers from,
the vibrance of
an inner storm.

Walking around in meat suit,
stretching over my skeleton
and a ribcage to shield and
protect my organs its just
another costume. But its
just hidden like are personalitys.

Like the masks we wear on are faces.
But the true you is the soul that floats
out of your body. So who am I?
Someone to play a role to fit in and live
life the best life that I can.

I have an unique inquisitive brain.
But deep inside I'm someone else
ive just been conditioned from birth

Through the slats comes the faintest of lights
It graces my cool skin

As a shadow falls softly onto the floor,
I’ve never noticed before
the color of my skin
or the shape of my hand

I am the outline
of a silhouette

A formation
of dust and old photographs,
maybe even photos of me
in another life

The moon hangs low,
sheathed in a halo

Lit by the soft glow,
I have come to life
I wonder what I look like
from the rooftop