Soar through me
Behind me
Beneath me
Be me
So I can steal
You away
Take you to
A place where the
Wind is constant
We’ll be free
To ride the waves
With each other,
Rising and diving
Will be our religion
We will worship
In each other’s eyes
Burn for the kiss
Suffer nothing
Be everything
To each other
For each other
With each other


3/4 Time

We live a life filled with music
I hear you softly humming
In the wind through the trees
With my eyes closed,
In a silent room
Your voice creeps into my head
Making itself comfortable
More than a long found friend
Soon we are singing the familiar chords
That brought us together
Then, and now
The notes lilt and sway
Catch up then lay back
Waiting for that moment
To let the full orchestra in
As it speaks our tale
Forever captured in 3/4 time


good night

good night
good night
good night
good night

my sleep is here
and I go
without a fight
hoping to dream of you
just a fleeting glimpse
of something shared,
I’ll be grasping
reaching out for
for just a wisp
of what I thought was there
it isn’t

good night
good night
good night
good night

sweet dreams
to be left
as what they are
a place to catch
our hopes and desires
tied to a shooting star
flying far away from here

good night
good night
good night
good night




Poets to Come

Tonight I was filing through my library in the basement to try and find something to read.  The last three books I’ve tried to start have been false starts, mostly because I had a hard time getting into them.  When that happens, 98% of the time I can’t just power through, I have to stop and try something else.  So, going through my collection in the basement, I came up with 5 books that I have read, but through the magic of ECT, are new to me. In no particular order, they are:

“The Art of Racing in the Rain” by Garth Stein (actually I read this book just over a year ago, but I loved it)
“The God of Small Things” by Arundhati Roy
“Nothing Special; Living Zen” by Charlotte Joko Beck
“Plath: Poems” Selected by Diane Wood Middlebrook
“Leaves of Grass” by Walt Whitman

The last two are primarily for reference for me and the things I write.  I don’t plan on reading them cover to cover.  But, after opening “Leaves of Grass” at random spots and reading a poem or two, I find myself humbled.  I can’t help but wonder at what people were thinking when they originally gave his works poor reviews.  I know that it doesn’t always take a poets 50-100 years for their work to be appreciated.  I look at Maya Angelou, Nikki Giovanni, and even Allan Ginsburg and I can see that time frame is inaccurate.  Then I look at myself and I start to wonder whether or not I might become famous for my writing.  What do I have to do to get my work in front of the right person?  Who is that right person?  And of course, it wouldn’t be a good course of self examination if I didn’t ask the ultimate question:  Am I good enough to even be mentioned with the likes Whitman, Plath, Angelou, Giovanni and Ginsburg?  I guess only time will tell.

Here’s one of my favorites by Whitman, as an inscription to “Leaves of Grass”


Poets to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than before known,
Arouse! for you must justify me.

I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future,
I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the darkness

I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a
casual look upon you and then averts his face,
Leaving it to you to prove and define it,
Expecting the main things from you.

———-  I feel like Whitman has thrown down the gauntlet with this inscription.  Now all I have to do is try to live up to that challenge.  Damn!

empty space

I’ve been talking outside your door
you’re not answering
at all
I just wanted to talk about things
you’re not answering
at least
you could say something
let me know that you hear me
at least
you could come to the door
let me see you
is that too much to ask
at least
I would know that you’re in there
that I haven’t been pouring myself
into an empty space

— GB