of the Sea

hope is a thing that thaws in spring

flows down a mountainside into a cascade

white cloud billow from the rush to be

gathered in a river flow to the sea.

It is light of a candle in a dark distance

that measures the way home, a fire

in the heart that carries us past weariness

a faith in black sky hours, before burn of dawn

consumes shadows and shimmers of night;

it is the faintest reckoning of love

even unto a distant heart gone cold, yet we know

the unwinding coil of time is proof:

life bears us like a rolling tide,

taking some into depths

bringing others into light.

The rhythm-less roll of age

reverberates to our cores, and we also know

it is the enduring hunger... that  feeds the soul.

life within

Breasts rise and fall,  full and round

over more-so roundness

swollen to burst, skin taut

belly of wonders...

Soft hands seem small in mine

held before brown eyes and a gentle smile

I am a glad captive.

Places my hand to feel heat of skin

the heart of her heart, rolling

kicking life within

the woman... chose life

in the hard moments, then as now

touching her.

Sometimes God is there

in a flawed man

bound up in a perfect love...







Author's note: ( from the manuscript- Poetry, Politics and Peteskid)

This is in my view is the appropriate role of a male, and the society as a whole: to support the woman's choice of her reproductive capacity. This is the way men treat themselves, and the way society treats men- we leave him to his choices. There are- as far as i know- no legal barriers for male choices except age and consent, in contrast to the female, where there is extreme scrutiny and even more being planned.  It is simply true, she  -just as he - does no more than contribute her biological share to the continuation of the species.

twenty eight

rising like the warm air of spring day
or green heads that sudden crack ground
or the flutter of what I imagine to be...
an angel's wings

Soft winds, rising like the prayers that follow
the passing of innocents
in warm breath comes bitter shudders
pain filled air, I cannot imagine
[i can imagine an Angel, i have seen angels]

Mijn kleine Belgie how you quake
as if in bare shouldered cold, is it
the innocents to whom  you
have given your last cloak

you weep as all should, feel as
all must, for the child we never kiss again;
we weep
when we have nothing of tomorrow's dreams
except  to remember

how much we loved them.

crown upon waters

The romance of a raindrop

too heavy to fly, sailed to earth

in a roll of cloud neath sunshine.

Winds tease to lift you once more

an invitation into a mist

yet onward you go, a journey like a need-

choosing not nor in care-

settled among so many.

Fall into a sight for eyes, a pattered rhythm

and the light of  my imagination

in a crown upon waters.

Home from the sky, into another beginning

to slow deep rivers, like my lovers eyes,

flowed til mouth kisses the sea, and you

coat the sparkle of an ocean swell, gleamed

in sun like her smile; and effervesce

in the million bits of moon, that make me wish

for warmth of her breath.