Blog Archives

Meet Me Once Again

Always wisht for a ‘grand affaire’
A love that rattled and shattered and grew
But only stolen glories and dried up hopes
And always the remains: ‘oh, how I’ll remember you’

Now guilty grey outcount the callow brown
And real age looms large in my mind
And alone with my picante Bordeaux
A joke portion remains of grace that one can find

Without pretense or malice aforethought
I plead you risk a newer pain
Join my foolish tilt at aged windmills
Meet me once more again

A riverbank, a hilltop, or bar
Your house, my house, running train
Restaurant, cemetery, or banquette
Meet me once more again

No promise of happily ever after
Just attentive present conversation
A chance to explore old embers
Or bury a youth’s spent intercession

A promise of ‘la grand affaire’
A love that filled and shattered and grew
Meet me once more again
Are all daisies really better when blue?

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Forgiving Father Marvelous

Moving down the page
At an acceptable change of pace,
We were so kind of in love,
Though I seem to have misplaced her face.
But I’m sure she was brunette
And possessive of wit and lust,
But like most of my choices
It all kinda went for spit and bust.
So here I write Saharan poetry—
Dry and empty as this Austin life.
Hoping better for the kid unit;
Truth oft separates like a steak fat knife.
No, no deep answers here:
Just marooned on the less traveled.
Awaiting that unadorned underbox
Overlaid in Southern granite that’s neatly marbled.

Sure As Felicity Follows Terpsichore

The Ice Queen turned from the window
The curtain folds draped back into proper place
She was again content in her Keep
Having begun to forget his absent face

While the snow salted the pines
Squirrels burrowed deep in their nests
The Ice Queen folded into her chair
Dinner as ignored as her discontents

She recalled his rude voice:

“Please give me back my delta—
Any seat on any levee on the Mississippi,
I gotta get back to Nawlins,
Sure as Felicity St. follows Terpsichore.

So take that cork out of vin St Francis
To go where we’ve been before,
Sonoma will have to do
Waiting for my Crescent City encore.”

But the Ice Queen felt a shiver versal of her own—

The ghost of a loss lingered lumpen there
Left hard upon her heart of gold
A tale one could tell of mind, body, and soul
If ever one was to be so bold

She’d been that comely lass with golden locks long,
Lovely as the dawn in the Spring;
Now she kept to her Keep,
Love a scoffed-at trifle, a mere unknotted string

But a heart-twist pulled her up short—

Where am I going?
Who will lead me there?
The fog isn’t lifting
And I fear the very air!

Are you really in love?
I know I would like to be;
Could we soon catch up somewhere?
Could you tarry with someone odd like me?

A dread expanded where certainty fled—

One day without you
Is a rainy day at the zoo;
Another night without you:
A starless, moonless night too blue;

She allowed: Come on over….

My Lady combed her silken, yet gold locks
And made her ministrations for bed.
She remembered her lists for the morrow
And made her solo cooling path to bed.

His eyes and tossed locks followed her to her dreams—
He to his beloved Delta, She to her duty and schemes.
The curtain folds draped back with proper straight lace,
She again content in her Keep and all in its correct place.