Like seeing sunlight
strike a Greek temple
at a distance, at an angle.
Light and shadow
on and between blank pillars,
the shriek of an eagle
somewhere.

You sparkled in that
evening dress,
held yourself high.
I kept falling
from one stanza
to the next.
Bathing Venus’ modesty,
the jazz pianist’s next phrase,
the lion and the lamb.

Then weeks, months.
I never saw you.
The buzz of a fly on the wall
always broke what was good.
Others came and went,
and I only saw afterward.
When in the supermarket
you answered hello,
when you nearly blushed,
the day and stars were
too grand.
The old dreams are gone,
but I wonder if they’re yours
as well as mine.

Wedding dress like
a lazy summer day.
Clouds laced, sparse.

Bonus points if you can figure out the video game that inspired this.

You didn’t say
“I love you.”
Instead, happy
to be outside,
thoughts about
ideals and banners,
responsibility
and guilt.
A bird flew by,
not a symbol
but a puzzle
and we wondered
about omens.
Then I was hurt.
Your reaction
was swift,
instinctive.
I only hate
how I didn’t think
I was loved
until distress.

Today
I groggily awoke,
fed the dog,
went to work,
napped at home.

It is your birthday.
I want to bark
at the moon.
I want the excitement
of innocence,
the dawning awareness
your presence
beckons.

You thought you were safe. We all think we are. On this spinning rock, living off the light of a dying star.

- Maiday

Darkened club,
noise blaring.
Neon shirts
stand tall,
an ecosystem
of tropic wonder.

The drinks are cheap
and terrible.
The smells are strong,
an undercurrent of human
not bleached out.

Strobe light catches
one dancer. Eyes closed,
leaning back, fully in
a ridiculous motion.
Platinum hair, red lips -
for one moment, she is
a perfect image.

A second’s reflection -
everyone is haunted
by death.

“You only get one body, but you can always change your mind”

- Maiday

Was summer.
Her yellow dress
and long hair seemed,
against the sky,
a reflection -
some memory made bright
by the light or the heat.
It’s hard
when you want to love.
She wanted a picnic
and was enthralled
with cut bread and green,
endless views.
I remember those ants
scurrying about, working
to survive, sliding
distrust of necessity
that was a plate
with sliced fruit.

Love doesn’t die, it just changes shape.

- Maiday

Such a still ocean,
where ever-changing water
returns. I wonder
how such a mass
weighs itself down,
finding strength
collapsing in.

Note: Faure’s setting of the hymn is bittersweet. I wonder about that.

notre unique espérance…

- Cantique de Jean Racine

In praise,
the palpable sense of loss.
How the heart – a void –
allows its echo escape
still mystifies me.

The nerves, raw, break -
after formal feeling,
numbness ensues. Too much,
no basis. No sense of

standing, communicating.
The pity of others just that.
Our hopes ours alone,
as what we were is gone.