Busy

Let the words speak for themselves. Of course, it does not help that I have, by choice, no internet at home.


Busy

When love and labor occupy my days,
I fear it is my poetry that pays.

Home

I've only been living in this new apartment for a month and a half, but already it feels like home. But then, I suppose I know the cause of that.


Home

Beneath the cedar and the stars
aligning in the evening sky -
old Sirius and rusty Mars -
reposes both my home and I.

How quietly we watch the night
grow deeper with the dipping sun,
as steady streams of people fight
against the red and angry run

of traffic flowing from the streets
that checker-box the city to
their empty houses. Each one greets
its occupant with silence. Who

would call these houses homes? Not I.
But then, my house is never dead,
and, in the evenings, there is my
own love to greet the one she wed.

Cupid and Psyche

Quod ergo Deus conjúnxit, homo non séparet.


Cupid and Psyche

Your smile is a song these wayward lips
will sing, my Psyche, sweet as summer rain,
a physic fit to cure my every pain
and radiance that, ringing this eclipse,

reminds me of the night you held a glim
and gazed on Cupid's countenance, asleep,
a trespass, yet a covenant to keep,
for, in the incandescence of the dim

and frail flame, you found another I,
as similar as if the two were one,
and pledged yourself, before you were begun,
to bear eternity; and I reply

that if another's lover be as true,
she would be yet a feeble shade of you.

Alike

Five more days...


Alike

As there is one alike myself,
that one I will embrace,
so quick to sweep my dusty shelf
of every idle trace
and cast this clutter out the door.
Each clearing opened on the floor

is priceless, for it clears away
the rubbish of a life
half-lived. I'll close this feeble play;
I'll settle every strife
and pull the curtain up anew,
as fresh and flawless as the dew.

Guest

I'm afraid that, with the wedding coming up in less than two weeks, my posting schedule will be spotty, at best. I do promise to continue posting (and on schedule again in a couple weeks...).


Guest

Amid the hectic manna grass,
abundant clump and crest
arranged about in knotty mass
and fitfully at rest,
I found a bearing for my heart,
your undistinguished guest;

you set before my idle start
a door, however small,
a portal clad in quiet art
but opulent in sprawl,
and so endowed my residence;
so unalike the small

and simple hovel, purchased, pence
and pieces, in my youth;
how could this effortless expense
be ample trade, in truth,
for such a fortune, such a lass
as loved a man uncouth.

By the Sea

I realized, today, that it has been close on a year since I have been to the ocean. This is clearly a situation that must be remedied. Not, however, in the next three weeks. Life is far too busy now. Thus, when I go again, it will be as a married man.


By the Sea

Roll me a wave
in the amethyst sea,
where a watery grave
sets the sailors free,

and the anchorless dross
of uncountable craft
make a bearing across
the pelagiac draught;

where the ambergris spins
in unceasing pavane
and the current begins
to unravel again,

while the surf and the swell
seem to call from the shore
and I wonder to tell
that they wait at my door.

Two Rooms

Two weeks of gradual packing and one day of harried moving, and I'm finally moved into our new place. This is the first time in my life that I've lived alone, and the apartment feels a bit empty and lonely. Fortunately, this state will not last long. Come May 21st and I will be living with my best friend. Could it get any better than that? I think not.


Two Rooms

Two weeks I had two rooms,
and now return to one;
the honeysuckle blooms,
but I am fled and run

and bound for greener lea,
to put behind the years
that mounted me a play
of apathy and fears.

No more the doubts abuse;
no more, the bitter night;
so certain of my muse;
so luminous in light,

and if I should contest
the solace of my home,
then never let me rest;
no heart was made to roam.