love is a dying star

this is what i know

that for love to die

it takes millions

and millions

of years

or it never happens

at all

it came to me that night

we went for ice cream in the snow

and we saw a shooting star

right then i said to myself

that star is dying

but you were one step ahead of me

you were already holding that star in your hand

you were putting that star in your pocket

saving it for an end

we both know will never come

and i know you still have that star there

you pin it to the inside

of every day you wear

i know it will stay with you

for millions

and millions

of years

and that is as close to an ending

as this love can fathom

          *          *          *

The Space Between

I.               I should tell you that some things don't go away even when they're gone. Not even when the only record of them ever happening is the memory itself. Not even when the heat of the sun fries them as if they were ants on the sidewalk on a hot Mojave day.

II.              Hold on. Don’t hold on.

III.            Memories are records of what was but also of what is and what will never be.

IV.            It is a shame that a person can’t attend his or her own funeral. Nothing would scare us if we could reach across time with a Sharpie and put our initials on everything that makes us shine.

V.             Fears are the real ghosts of this world.

VI.            Boo!

VII.          Imagine a world in which all of our wishes were premonitions. In that world the space between us would never cause us pain.

VIII.         I look at your photograph and find myself marveling at the way time is deepening the hollows around your eyes, when I know full well it is nonsense to think I can hold on to the things that don’t belong to me.

IX.            It is nonsense to think we can hold on to the things we love.

X.             And so I marvel at how formidable I am when the moon is in Sagittarius and the songs are in my heart. 

XI.            Memory is the space between us. And by ‘us’ I mean it is the ‘and’ between you and me.

XII.          Memory is the last time I held your hand in mine. Memory is all the times our lips will never meet. Memory is an individual chronology of ghosts.

XIII.         The only way to combat inertia is to act.

XIV.        What is the point of remembering? For instance:

a.)    I was once on a plane that almost crashed in a typhoon at Narita Airport.

b.)    I once got married.

c.)    I once spent an entire night awake in a bed watching a man sleep because I knew there was a very good chance I would never get to sleep beside him again.

d.)    I once held a smiling child in my arms, whispering to him that although he would never remember the moment, I would never forget it.

This is what I’m talking about.

Memories are not images.

They are feelings.

Apparitions.

IF YOU HAVE KISSED ME THEN YOU KNOW

i devoured him
as if he were a cherry in my mouth
all of them

i have
dived into
as if they were the sea

heads underwater
tongues serpentining
throats

and every one of them
would take me back
every one of them

still dream the same dream

if you have kissed me then
you know what i mean

the greatest gift
you can give a lover

is to allow them to breathe
underwater

everything seems so close
until you get    closer

everything seems so daffodil  
until you learn how to swim

but i have never mistook a tidal wave
for a broken halo or a spool of thread

though more than once i have mistaken a body
for a promise i wanted to keep

above all i believe
we are as trivial as we are burning

above all i believe
all men are born free

kiss me kiss me kiss me, my sweet 

kiss me and you will know what i mean


*          *          *


(this poem was inspired by the works of Sylvia Plath)

CONNECT THE DOTS: A Love Story

1.) Like the time I was trying to pretend I was tougher than I am and I told my lover I didn't need anyone to take care of me and he said but I want to take care of you and that's when it happened. That's when everything inside of me softened and I realized his love was panoramic. 2.) His love is panoramic. 3.) And the time I thought I had been broken but it turned out I'd only been mistaken. 4.) Connect the dots. 5.) Every time I play connect the dots I draw pictures I never could have made without all those other steps showing me the way. 6.) My lover's body is a gift between midnight and the dawn. A space where we do not need light in order to find each other. 7.) Stay there. Stay right where you are and let everything around you change. You will change too. But it will be without having to be wrestled to the ground. 8.) Every moment is a lesson in evolution. 9.) My lover's hands are a lesson in holding on. 10.) The only way to defy gravity is to believe in it. Believe in it with all your heart and atrophy will not affect your bones. 11.) Yesterday my friend asked me for advice on men but what could I tell her? My lover is a lesson in warm affection and my coldest former flame was a lesson in chiropractics. 12.) Never chase a man whose head is two inches ahead of his body. It means he lives in the past. 13.) And if someone tells you they will never be good enough for you you should believe them because why would anybody make up a thing like that? 14.) That is all the advice I have. 15.) Connect the dots. 16.) My lover's love is panoramic. 17.) People tell us who they are all the time. We just have to listen. 18.) Love is as love does. 19.) We do. 20.) We are. 21.) And when my lover puts his hands over my eyes and then takes his hands away I am always somewhere new. 22.) Nothing lasts very long. Not even sadness. 23.) How could I have not seen this before? 24.) Trust me when I say that even the most circuitous route will turn into a clear image in the end. 25.) We all need to take care of each other. 26.) My lover's love is panoramic.

*.         *.         *.

THE FIRST TIME I FELT MY SPINE

I remember the first time I realized it

was beating. Yes, the spine beats too

from the inside out just like

the heart. The beating of the spine is

an articulate rhythm of longing. It is a pounding with

words attached—words that are engraved on your vertebrae. 

Your future as part of your history.

Every potential moment perdure.

The spine is where the desire for a life less ordinary lives.

It was November of 1989 and I was in a movie theater

waiting for a film to start.

A film starring Shirley MacLaine and Julia Roberts

and other actors I can’t remember. These details

are not important. What matters is that it came to me then,

sitting in that theater all by myself.

I dreamed up the person I wanted to be

and I set about becoming her.

Promising myself I would never lead

an inconsequential life.

This is one promise

I have kept.

Knowing who you want to be

is often more important than knowing what.

We all have this wisdom

living in the bones of our backs

some dying a little every day

to get out.

It is impossible to be great by accident.

And the bones always ask for more.

          *          *          *

AN OPEN LETTER TO MY LOVER ON VALENTINE'S DAY

To my darling lover- 

When I was a seed in the ground you were the sun and the water that helped me out of the dirt. Weeds can be beautiful too. Like the dandelions you pick for me on your bike rides. But you know this already, don’t you? You’ve known all along, instinctively, all the things it took me years to learn. You know that wild flowers are not born with broken hearts, and that love songs are not battle songs or songs of fear, they are gospel songs and symphonies. Thank you for always being where you were meant to be, even when I was lost. Thank you for being smart back when I was being so unbelievably stupid. Thank you for biding your time when I was wasting mine. Thank you for never disappointing me no matter how many times I may have disappointed you. Thank you for never being afraid of my passion or your own. Thank you for recognizing the value of independence and individuality, and for never asking me to be anyone except exactly who I am. Thank you for living life and love with the bravery and strength of a hero. Thank you for being a cartographer of that love, and for using my body as the map. On our own we are two bright stars in a vast and lonesome sky. Together we are a constellation. A long and crooked road can still lead to a promised land. The past is a house that has burned down, so far behind us we can no longer see the smoke nor taste the ashes. Not that we look back anyway. Ours is a journey facing right now. Fluid. Impermanent. Beautiful. Evolving. Unknown. Every blink is a beginning. Every hungry kiss an adventure. This is as easy as breathing and as difficult as climbing a mountain. I am your artist and your muse and your lascivious partner in crime. Inspired by your goodness. Humbled by your greatness. Warmed by your kindness. Drenched by your desire. I love you with the grace of an angel and the courage of an astronaut. We do not belong to each other we belong to this moment and this moment belongs to us.

We surrender.

          *          *          *       

ASH & PHOSPHENE

It was the silence that I noticed first
The disorder cured
The breaking of the curse

Then the scratches and scrapes
The scars and the aches
I couldn’t feel them any more

All the little sorrows and rocks
That had lived and tumbled
Inside my heart

Like razor blades in a washing machine
Had transformed into stillness
Ash and phosphene 

Where heartbreak was once the noise that I breathed
For this moment is buried
Under my feet

And now the burden is gone the day is sweet
I see it all so clearly now
I am free I am free


*     *     *