Falling Star

Just as this bed faces the window now,
just like we turn toward the night
where lace curtains hang like they’ve always hung
since people first learned how to hide.

Just like I want to turn toward you,
or how sometimes I might go inside
when you get home so late and I’m looking away,
still the words that you say, and the way that you say,

and the hands that you lay, the space just melts away.

Look how it’s all been forgotten,
how we all forgot something again,
we are trying to grow up and we’re trying to grow old,
and we find ourselves right where we’ve been

before, there were so many answers
from the suit men erupting like fires,
so we stand in the face of the answer man
and the smoke and the jokes and the liars,

and the forests are burning like pyres.

Just as I need to turn toward you now,
just like your arms hold me tight,
and we make a new verse to replace this old curse
for the poets who’ve shown us the light.

See how I’m learning the same thing again,
and this might always be how it goes,
so we do it all over, except this time it’s better,
and the night comes again, and the light comes again,

thought I’d walked through this door, then discover there’s more.

In a moment last night, in the dust of a dream,
a vision through half sleepy eyes,
but real as the truth, or the words that you say,
or the voices of those who will rise.

With love on our side, between curtains flung wide,
a star cuts the sky like a knife
with a trail so bright it erases the night
as the mountain erupts like a fire,

and the heat of it burns like a choir.

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These Chambers

Though I have had the fortune
of great love, there was a time
I did not know my heart.
My child self never doubted
that the world was made for beauty,
and I am still not certain
that this was not the result
of some accidental cosmic luck.

So much love has passed
through these chambers.
And my heart grew
as hearts will,
or sometimes won’t.

The greatest gratitudes of my life
are for the ones
who used their arms
to hold me.

And there were disturbances
more profound than the loss
of my own blood, and inside
these ravagings and rebirths,
great softenings that dissolved me
into a deep ocean of empathy
and into the knowing of what is true:

every heart I have ever loved
will one day sink to the bottom of the sea,
a small grain of sand

… so each moment has become
an unexpected pearl,
and I am learning
to listen to the drum
that beats a quiet rhythm to my daily doings.

Rain

Oh sweet rain,
wash me clean –
clean of the morning

discord with
the one I love,
clean of the obstacles

that block
the words
I mean to say, clean

of useless guilt,
this bane of
being human.

All day, the sky
is open and
I am ready. Ready

to release
these life-hewn
habits, to

begin again
like the lime
green grass

that pushes
up after the
long, dark winter.

Driving Between

Stop to notice a
curve in the road –
my mountains ahead,

your mountains behind –
both ranges clear,
defined,

and upward
reaching.   Marvel
these Rockies

that grow even now
beneath February
snow melting

to river – white heights
clear, attainable,
and utterly

wide open
against the bluest
Colorado sky.

Valentanniversaire

No longer are we
simply celebrating
a day of chocolate

lollipops and foil wrapped
hearts – now we will
celebrate the birthdays

of snuggles (a lamb
and a puppy), born
last Valentine’s morning.

Tomorrow they turn one,
they say, And will
you bake a cake?

After an already
too late evening
of homemade cards

and too much chocolate,
and all this perfect love
and tears (and too much

chocolate), and the truth
that we are all okay
after all of the changes,

the deep down knowing
in the calm,
and in the sweetness,

in the long hugs goodnight
before the drifting off
to dream – I can

pretty much guarantee
I will be baking
a cake.