Substitutionary
I find no love in the abstract
of my pocket
nothing but a little god
and my hat
which I am glad to eat
Poems on the topic: love
Poems on the topic “love” on Poets.by.
Personal growth
an hour alone
is a wing I can fasten
any place in the world
and I might be the only man
at a silent disturbance
against his own interest
a take that is a mistake
taking away the chance
to undertake it
I believe we live
to question not to suffer
or correct faults
a bread and heart sandwich
so we grow fat
with love
Finish Line
The secret to us
staying together, I said,
is just not to think
about the finish line.
You got to keep your eyes
on the road. Out by
the speedway, we found a bench
with all of its slats intact.
The roar of the cars & the crowd
came in waves, like the ocean.
You could smell the exhaust.
We had everything with us,
but it wasn’t enough for her.
You go on, then, I said.
I was already carving
our love into the wood,
Lucky
the stone grew a mouth
for the mist
not for the haze
but mistress enough
on that irregular ground
it is a strange blockhead luck
to be loved
Night-lover
am I to father a child
with my lady pen
head full of trouble
and pictures
pictures pictures
sick at the river
of gray business
I go out into the night
and talk to her
in her cage
telling her she was
the bird of paradise
Fires
morning like a small fire
I ask myself to be kind
for the truth is comical
and in you the spark
that makes me go
Alewife
our private war
like dwelling in fire
lips that I have kissed
as much as some ales
JOHNNY TO FRANKIE
I curse you & you come back
for more, your proud lip trembling.
You deny nothing.
There are words that should never be said &
I say them one by one because they are delicious.
Every stunned look has its echo
in the pit of my stomach. It terrifies me
how much of you I have taken in
& how much more I still need.
When a hound feels sick he eats
a little snakeroot, cleans himself out.
I love you beyond reason.
If only you would pay me back in my own coin.
In a Month of Sundays
All this time without the sight of you
has been bright, quiet, sweat-free,
with only the distant tolling of bells
morning after morning to remind me
that somewhere people might
be rising & kneeling together,
intertwining the fingers
of their left & right hands
& bowing their heads over them,
intoning the joyful syllables of reunion.
The moon has rounded its full cycle
from dark to dark all the while
this single day has kept replaying,
like a peppy song on heavy rotation,
& I have set the noontime table
as well as a guy who lives alone
Managing expectations
ask a kiss to wait
till further orders
he who must come in hope
will go to wrack
see all the grief
put to work loving
like a cook’s conquest
of the eyes
Existentially
after dinner and a play
and mad love
who to be
whom to happen to
Zen in new clothes
are we content
Good Morning Blues
As the months wore on
it began to fade, the once-
sharp contrast between
our skins & hair & lips,
as we knew it would.
Our rubbing together
built up less & less
of a static charge.
The pale apple on the back
of her laptop no longer
reminded me of anything
in particular, & we traded
fewer glances over
the rims of our cups.
For me, the morning paper
became a cosy crib
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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