Ample Singing


She lifts me

like a balloon.

She caresses me

like a song

that makes me cry.

She destroys me

like dynamite

and I am new.


Her spirit dawns

like the moon-

simple and luxurious.

Her heart explodes

like broken crystal.

Her ample singing,

like bees buzzing.


She is stars.

She is lust.

She is universal

dust that I breathe.

She is illuminated,

coarse, free.

She is eternity.



When Light Enters


                        For Denise Guiducci, and the ceaseless

                         spirit of Alan.


Here I am a hollow shell

mysteriously alone,

though life is all around me.


The mysterious thing about a shell,

hollow and empty,

is eventually dust will corrode


away the tip chipping

until a narrow hole is formed.

Light enters.


First the trapped air escapes.

Slowly replaced, that tepid air

converts to a universal mixture.


Wind sends the dust up,

collecting at the bottom of my core,

building to a mound.


Pregnant wind moistens

the Earth inside me, fertilizing,

preparing and softening the soil.


Tilled and ready.

The timely sparrow releases a seed.

Cascading through the narrow hole,


planting itself within my mound.

It grows tall, cracking my shell.

and I become the mound,


the air, and I am free.



80 Years


Towel snaps smack like mousetraps,

or the unexpected events causing whiplash;

the way your love hits me.


What will be here in 80 years?

Sequoias.  Clouds.  Politics.

Us?  Not with the way we burn


the oil fueling our passion,

or how we crave the richest

flavors of culinary and wine.


Nor our conviction

that this Earth could share

a collective thought of peace.



Thunder cracks like a purse snatch,

unexpected from environmental trash;

but you’re with me.


Eighty years past,

our experiences engrained in molecules

are obvious magnets


pulling together our burning fuel,

melding our bond

like resin or glue.


Looking forward is peaceful.

Looking up, it’s restful-

we are the sparkle of dying stars.


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