you are 
always
worth the wait.

knots

despite the madness

of it all

in the perfect tangle

of you and i

i have found

more of myself 
than i knew existed

snug and warm knots

you and i will conjure

to come;

together

album

I went thru one of your

Photo albums

While you were out of the room

The one with

All the pictures of you

From the elegant and wistful

To the ill and miserable

The sexy low-cut blouse
Pin-Up girl

To the coy and playful

yet my favorite

is still the

slightly argumentative

'-you-asked-for-it-

this-is-me-in-jeans-and-an-old-sweater-and-I-bet-you’re-feeling-rather-silly-now-

aren’t-you-because-I-barely-have-any-make-up-on-and-my hair is…'

and it’s at that point

i’d have to interrupt and

kiss you

hard.

Figure

As I kneel at the steps of you

And steel myself

The feet of you

The legs that carry

Your hips

To the waist

The opulence and expanse

Of a chest that contains me

Ferries me

The blood

And carries me

To your slender neck

And at the top

Where the eyes and lips

And cheek

And tongue with words

And ideas that level

And dishevel

Never has a figure

Done, been, is, will be

What you are

And

Forever will be

clouds

good chest rise and fall

normal breath sounds

steady pulse

but sometimes

it’s still hard to breathe

thinking about you

the weight of a thousand clouds

upon my torso

and somewhere between the skies

i hear their pleas

echo their cries

and hope for your indulgence –

the next time

and everytime you’ve ever felt

a warm spring drizzle

or the hard driving rain

of a cold gray winter’s day

it’s just Cumulus, Cirrus and Stratus

needing to feel

if only for a moment,

your soft skin

and honestly,

i can’t really blame them

us

I want to see what your

Hand looks like in mine

How our fingers

Feelings

Glide slowly thru the

Warm safe spaces

[Usually only reserved for the ‘me’]

the ‘us,' the ‘we’

Of each other

As raindrops slide

Voyeur-ously down our window

Gloriously jealous of our nature

Our rightness

Our us and we

stasis

Hurtling along the wire

It’s easier to keep balance

Than the manic dance

Of assumed normalcy

Human hungers

Fed in dark unmarked corners

The agonizing stasis

The pretense dressed in

Elegant paralytic denial

The blood the bile the come

Covered in rouge

Doused in perfume

in the quiet

as i find myself

in center

in the quiet with you

and you open to me

it’s a long slow stroll

up the smooth avenue

of your thighs

streetlights casting

their light –

trying to get a peek and

fighting off jealous shadows

as i find your hand

and your lips

i find another

piece of myself

a small precious

peace of self

porcelain

somewhere there’s a time

sometime there’s a place

in the in-betweens

the instant between heartbeats

when I drink from your cup

a gorgeous porcelain vessel

shaped and designed

for the lips

fired and curved

for the hands

in the in-betweens

the instant between awake

and dreams

vanilla & honeysuckle

[dreaming again...
As I slipped the delicate lace strap

From your shoulder

Your eyes closed

And breathing quickened

I pushed your hair back behind your ear

(I’m going to sit down for a while

In this place)

The one where I hear crickets chirping

Amidst the ethereal silence

of our shared breath

And I catch

The slight vanilla scent of your skin

Mixed with the honeysuckle

wrapped seductively around a fence

In this -

The beautiful silence

The place where my heart guides my hands

And you guide my heart... ]

beyond pt. 2

desire

passion

longing

slow kisses on necks

and shoulders

hips and waists

breasts and lips

Deliberate and Impassioned

the spectrum

skated, skirted, pushed and split

clawing and grabbing on for

dear life beautiful you

because you extend far beyond

the desirable

the sultry

the alluring

the sensual

you extend far beyond

any shore

any ocean

any border

any sky

There will never be enough kisses.

the beyond

there’s a peculiar but not unpleasant

freedom in this place

the beyond tact

the beyond fear

beyond posturing and pretense

where i can tell you

that that magical place

that i imagine touching

that i imagine you touching

will never produce enough

honey to sate my hunger

that i want to find that sweet spot

that place where pain and ecstasy

join in you and i

where roads i’ve been afraid to walk down -

i want to explore with you

hand in hand

that the ‘after’ is as anticipated

as

the before

the during

the only frightening thing that remains -

That as much as I want you, 

I still want to hold you even more.

levee

the levees and trusses

are groaning in protest

the river-water swirling

in proud nervous vortexes

wherearewegoing

little maelstroms

new virgin and drunken currents

foam and bubble

sway and stray

push and pull

orphan leaves

surfing and wading

waiting

at the breaks and bends

You’re coming

hipshot whipcracks

at the snap

i say a little prayer

drown me or deliver me

Darling

but keep coming

dreams of tea

i carry your words in my pocket

talismans and treasured keepsakes

a string tied around my ring finger

to remind me of a few precious

beautiful quiet nights

and one where the moon

knocked on my window

[it’s much friendlier 
than you might think]

to ask if it were possible –

“i don’t know…

but tonite,

i allow myself to dream -

tonite, it is;

tonite, she does.”

so i thank you

for those nights

of you

for those dreams

of you

all i can offer

has already been given

it’s been yours for some time

and will remain so

And there’s no other

whom I’d rather have

have it.

…be well…

Beautiful girl.

Often

Sometimes

There will be fights

There will be tears

There will be struggles

I will say or do stupid things

Or not say anything

When it needs to be said

Often

There will be horrible movies

That we’ll have to find other ways

To entertain ourselves thru

There will be walks

Toenails will be painted

There will be moments

You will drag me to stores

And I will tell you that it’s fine

Because it is (mostly) – but you look beautiful to me

In anything

In nothing

In everything

In everyway

I will watch you put on your make-up

and fix your hair

I will watch you get dressed

And undressed

And try and look casual

Because even I know not every time

Is the right time,

But you’re that beautiful

You will try and take pictures of me

And I’ll relent as long as you’re in them with me

Things will break and I’ll try and fix them

Repairmen will be called after I worsen the problem

I will hold you

I will have to keep myself from holding you sometimes

We will eat Chinese food

We will laugh

I will take care of you when you have too much to drink

You will take care of me when I’m sick and whiny

I will be frustrated that I can’t get you everything

That I want to give you

You will get aggravated when I want to be alone sometimes

I will get aggravated when you want to be alone sometimes

You will always pick the restaurant

Because I honestly and truthfully don’t care

As long as you’re there

I will get jealous of other guys you know

My family will adore you

Yours will hate me

I will never get tired of waking up beside you

I will never get tired of kissing you

I will never get tired of holding you

I will never get tired of being there for you

I will never get tired of being with you

I will never go as long as you’ll have me

Don’t ask me how I know –

I just know.

ribbons

smell of chalk, industrial cleaners

old textbooks, cheap school desks

a young boy musters his courage

 [finally making good use of

his mischievous skills]

and passes a note to

a beautiful dark-haired

girl in a red sweater

she doesn’t have any ribbons

in her hair today

- which is good -

[he can’t think straight

when her hair’s up

for reasons he doesn’t yet understand]

but he knows that

all the hair ribbons were made for her

all the ribbons are made for her

undercurrents

There is a

Tightening of the chest

At the gut

The base places

An undercurrent buzzing

Within every movement

Thought moment breath

Striking when and

Not

Expected

It’s you -

And it’s gloriously terrifying

There is fear -

But it holds its own with

Beautiful possibility

And the tranquil inevitability

Derived in a rare moment of 

clarity

Where one knows

This path must be walked

Wherever it should go

- That never have I wanted

   Or needed to

   Set out more -

There may be regrets about missteps

But never one that I started 

Towards you

hope

I don’t expect anything

Not the worst

Not the best

And certainly not perfection

[how annoying would it be

to fall for someone who’s perfect?]

I hope for you

I hope for flaws

I hope for scars

I hope for insecurities

Because God knows I’ve got mine

I hope for your trust

I hope for your humanity

I hope for your emotions

Your mistakes, your smiles, your laughs

The times [I hope] you

say or do dumb things

I hope for your vulnerability

To share those things with me

To trust me with them

To trust me with you

I hope for your trust

To trust me with you

All of you

I don’t expect anything

I simply hope

for you.

take what you will

it was offered without reservation

and without expectation

take what you will

it was given purely

honestly

take what you will

the only hope

was that one day

if not me

you might  be

may be

reassured

in what you’ve yet to see

take what you will

be well

smile.

beautiful girl.

Helen

Past the Fabergé and                                    

Furniture that wasn’t to be 

Satuponreclinedinrestedonetc.

[simply looked at and admired -

which in my estimation is much

like paying for a prostitute to

just give you compliments]

The portraits and landscapes

And other impressive bric-a-brac

-oooh….look…another fox hunt-

was where the

steelbelted radials met

pavement

and where a boy’s life changed

before his first kiss

             his first love

             his first car

             his first love in said car

 

 - there was Helen -

past the Rothko and Johns

round the corner from the Schnabel

and Warhol, if you hit the Lichtenstein

you’ve gone too far

There suspended gracefully in air

floated Helen and her song

Leaving a 14 year old boy breathless

in awe, and for one of the few times

At peace.

It(’)s deceptive simplicity

Wrapped in elegant chaos

Smothered in gorgeous

Sensuous color

And much like an afternoon                                                

Spent in a park with a girl

And an ee cummings collection

[she wasn’t brand new – but her torque

still left me bruised and shaken]

It, while I wouldn’t realize it at the time,

Would irrevocably change my life

So, thank you Helen.

(and ee cummings – that was a great fucking afternoon)

"A really good picture looks as if it's happened at once. It's an immediate image. For my own work, when a picture looks labored and overworked, and you can read in it—well, she did this and then she did that, and then she did that—there is something in it that has not got to do with beautiful art to me. And I usually throw these out, though I think very often it takes ten of those over-labored efforts to produce one really beautiful wrist motion that is synchronized with your head and heart, and you have it, and therefore it looks as if it were born in a minute."

                                                                                -  Helen Frankenthaler

                                                                                   December 12, 1928 – December 27, 2011