Tuesday, June 11, 2013

A Song Across the Hall

Very little rouses me to write these days.

But you have.

Thank you, R.

For the Spanish and the guitar, the fearlessness and faith. 

We're strangers, but love lets us know each other.

I wish your songs could carry beyond the hall.

I think you could save the world with them.

And I hope you find her.

I hope you find her.

Monday, March 18, 2013

"Why are we here?"

Falling in love with you is rather more like leaping than falling.

That is to say, it was wanted.

(But you have this way about you.)

Being next to you is rather more like being granted rest before being used than resting.

That is to say, I don't ever feel I'm in control.

(But I have this way about me.)

Happiness is rather more like a surrender of want than wanting happiness.

That is to say, I love you.

(And I love this way about us.)

Tuesday, February 19, 2013


Perhaps you should have ended your sentence with


or even just


But you ended it with perhaps.

And now, Lover,

you can change your perhaps to a No.

As in No, we aren't together.

Or, No, she isn't mine.

Because I'm not anymore.

"The girl next door."

"The sweet girl."

Now she's a scorned girl next door with a sweet rage.

Perhaps you should never have started that sentence at all.