A Hundred Lifetimes

If I live

a hundred lifetimes,

some more glamorous than this;

some perhaps,

even poorer,

I will find

the same lonesome places

where I will sit contemplating

a hundred stories

to be told

a hundred different ways,

over and over

until the world

is a hundred times

a less lonely place. 

The world may change

a hundred times over,

grow a hundred years older,

as long as I am in it

in a hundred different forms,

I will find

one pen

to inscribe

a hundred different truths,

one stage

with a hundred different players

to share it with, 

in all the little corners

until we are found. 

And in each lifetime, 

you may wear

a hundred different faces;

I will keep finding


in which your soul belongs.

And I will offer

a hundred different songs

and a hundred more,

to remind you

of the hundred different ways

I chose you,

over and over

until you understand

there is no life I’d want more. 

A Hundred Lifetimes

February 21, 2022

A Drop of Honey

I want to hear

the first rush of air

you breathe

when the blue jays sing

their morning song

as I turn to find you

beside me,

and rest my head

on your bosoms as they heave

as they did

a little too heavily

on the eve

of the first of many


we will greet together.

I want to see

the sunlight touching your face

as you smile

when you see me by your side,

to bask in the brightness

of your eyes

where falls

a drop of honey

as did a few

from the deep caverns

of your body

down to my lips

the night before. 

I want to taste

the sweetness

of a new day

with you close by,

to smell

the first morning brew

we will drink together, 

and drink again

from each other’s souls

the secrets

we can no longer hold

come nightfall. 

A Drop of Honey

February 15, 2022

If I Never Say the Words

And if I never say the words

I almost said a thousand times, 

remember how I said them 


how I whispered in the silence

the things I long to scream,

          in rhymes,

how I blew kisses for you

          across the distance, 

          across the miles. 

For in the darkest of nights,

I still found you

and cradled you in my arms;

remember I will always

          keep you warm.

Every morning I greet you

and before you close your eyes, 

remember how you wish

          you could flee

from the confines of your room

          to be next to me. 

If I fail to say the words

before I run out of time,

remember how I told you

          of my crimes,

how I showed you my scars,

and how you touched them


          from afar. 

And when the rain is pouring

          too heavily, 

remember, I will be here

          to be your canopy.

For each time I make you smile,

each time I draw out

          your laugh,

remember that for me, 

          it is more than enough

to get me through the day

          and when nights are rough. 

And if I cannot yet

          say the words

you’re not ready to hear, 

remember I will always be near;

          when the time is right,

          I will so recite

the words I can no longer

          keep out of sight. 

But if I never say the words

I wish to say a million times,

remember how I said them

in every way—

how I’ve been your ambient sound

when it was too quiet 

          or too loud;

remember I will always be


If I Never Say the Words

February 8, 2022

Sonnet IX

So as these strokes form words on the paper,

Think my touch drawing patterns on your skin.

Each loving curve, a dance from here to there

As my hand moves on the page to draw you in;

High and low, my heart swells with its motion

As I imagine yours beating with mine.

Each line, a sweet caress with precision,

Connects our minds that we may so align. 

Every kiss my pen leaves with its tip

On every inch of the page till it’s full

Is one more fiercely planted on your lips;

I linger for their taste before I pull. 

   On the last dot, my words are a song made whole;

   And I surface from the depths of your soul. 

Sonnet IX

February 5, 2022

They Sing of Us

Faint, gentle,

the distant singing;

I hear them every morning

as the first wind blows,

carrying their voices

to my sluggish ears,

rousing me from dreams,

calling to my heart

with a careful legato,

to the tune of your name. 

I wake to greet another day

in a world made beautiful

by your presence. 

As you turn

to open your eyes,

I touch your face

through the ray of sunlight

sneaking into your window 

while their voices soar

to a grand crescendo

as they sing of us,

and slowly

glide to a low hum

to let us know

the world is alright;

the world is brand new. 

They Sing of Us

February 2, 2022

On a Blue Balloon

On this ungodly hour

when you are deep in dreams, 

I go down

to the unsleeping city

where the skyscrapers 

are built from fantasies

and the roads

are made of stories

of heroes

who brought lost citizens


Up I float

from my desk

through the windows

on a blue balloon,

sailing down past the oceans

to the realms

beyond consciousness

where you wake

with a dear smile,

waiting for me.

There beneath the waking world,

I take you in my arms

to dance

our silly little dance

under trees of gold

while the Earth spins

momentarily out of reach,

just until I’ve sneaked in

the sweetest kiss

on your sweet sweet lips. 

On a Blue Balloon

January 28, 2022

Through the Thick Silence of the Well

Beyond the surface

where the butterflies play,

the bright ringing 

of your laughter

cuts through the thick

menacing silence

of the well,

past the stale air,

down to my hiding place

where it resounds, 

a happy little bird song

from miles away. 

Down here

where I shy

away from the sun,

your smile pierces 

the pitch-black space 

within cold walls.

You are the brightest ray

of sunshine

to ever come this way,

here in the bottom

of this dry pit;

you are a splash

of fresh water

to my parched soul. 

It is time for me to climb

out of the hole.

I fly

out of the chasm, 

into fields of white

where lilies abound, 

welcoming me

to where you stand in wait

to take me in your arms. 


where I will carry you

under the richest

apple blossom

and kiss you

until the moon shines. 

Through the Thick Silence of the Well

January 16, 2021

Stories Over Pastries

I know I get carried away

too easily,

and maybe it’s too early

to bring out the pen. 

Words don’t come easy;

I do not use them lightly.

I only wish to write

what I can

to let you know

you inspire me so. 

I don’t mean to hurry

or ask you to marry,

but girl you should see

you light a spark in me. 


beyond this horrid nightmare

we live in, 

I dream of a place

where I can see your face

free of the fear

of losing what we hold dear. 

I don’t mean river parks

or fields of roses;

just a little cafe

where we can stay

till it closes. 

Maybe we share stories

over some pastries,

talk about dreams

and possibilities. 

Maybe it turns out

we don’t have a lot

of similarities,

or maybe we walk away

knowing we’d come back

another day. 

Either way, 

I long to see the day. 

So, what do you say?

Stories Over Pastries

January 7, 2022

12:55 am 

Haggling with Angels

I woke up bargaining 

with God knows who again;

some greater force I imagined

could change the way

things turned out to be. 

As if it’s not enough

that I think ginger

would turn into chocolate

just because I want to eat it. 

Yet here I am haggling

with angels,

trading gold and silver 

for an arrow

from Cupid’s bow

with hope

that up it would go

past the stars and the atmosphere,

down to your heart. 

Haggling with Angels

December 16, 2021

When Night Stole Daybreak

Rain washed paradise

of its fiction;

the pink pigments in the sand, 

the figments in the island’s

mirage-like glass walls

where dance the silhouettes 

of movie stars

off a black-and-white picture,

melting away

with the sporadic heat

of the sun.

Where for but split seconds come

the spark of daylight, 

dimmed away

each time the winds blow. 

There it settled 

above me

as truth did

in the warm afternoon glow;

a set of pearls


from the other side

of my window—

only my soul could reach. 

For but one morning,

it was mine;

I owned paradise

before the squall poured

and night stole


When Night Stole Daybreak

October 12, 2021