Jump Start

I feel the pounding in my heart

The music is the pacemaker that

starts my heart pounding again. . .

A mystical experience in the midst

of a dark, smoky Crowded House?

How ridiculous!


I let the music take over my body

As the crows evaporates.

All I could hear was the music.

Feel the beat of the drum

My body sways back

My arms wrap around me.


The lights come on and

I am surrounded

by strangers.

Where is my friend,

the cool darkness of night?

Outside the door,

I breathe again,

And the heat speeds away

from my body.

Dissapating into the cold night air.


Alone and safe,

The music begins again.

I journey inward while

The music follows like a

faithful companion.

The night sky

streaked with clouds

Delights my senses

As the music stirs

through my existence

and ignites my Soul.


15 April 1994



Just when I was getting accustomed

to the unimaginable ideas

of bizarre triangles

of all shapes,

I soon realized that this is

not the problem.

The problem is,

in fact,

the circles

that never end. . .

They just keep tempo with the

melody that happens to be

playing at the moment.


The melody that seduces you into believing

any thing. . .

any lie. . .

any hope. . .

The rhapsody that moves you,

fills your lungs with fire,

sends you pirouetting toward the edge.

The mournful chorus that sends

your heart plunging to the rocks below.


But can I,

in good faith,

place the blame on a song?

on a shape?

Can I lay responsibility at

your feet and then walk away?


The triangles may have fallen

into place by circumstance.

But we have the onus

to break the cycles

before we,


shatter. . .

15 January 1994


First Encounter

I enter into the windy chamber

I sit, dutifully and take my place.

Waiting, watching, discreetly.

You enter my view.

I try not to stare.

To glance your way. . .

          But I do.

I smile and look away hurriedly,

afraid to meet your glance

You parade before me,

my heart begins to panic.

I try not to look interested,

to concentrate on my scrolls.

to seem cool and aloof outside.

But my true feelings burn —

like white heat inside.


30 January 1992



Untitled #6

I think of you so often

It feels only normal.

But when the sun sets

Behind the horizon

My thoughts are bedeviled by you.

I think of you. . .

Seeing you again

Holding you close

Being with you.

I close my eyes and listen

I hear your voice

I long for that meeting that

Will never happen

Except when I slumber

Why am I haunted by your memory?

Do you really mean anything to me?

Or, more correctly,

What do I mean to you?

I think of you and

Dream of how much you miss me?

Then I worry if you really ever

Cared at all.

You have not proclaimed your feelings.

I begin to panic

Is this feeling only a monologue

In my mind?

I wish I had the answers that

Distress me so.

No clues are revealed

From behind the ancient

Walls that will never crumble.

I am waiting for eternity

Locked in

A circle of darkness.

Summer 1991


Untitled #4

I sit in a quiet room

Thinking of what to write to you

There are so many things

That I would love to say to you but now I cannot.

The last time I saw you, you seemed hesitant to say

What was on my mind.

What was troubling you?

What would you not tell me?


I think of you so often the it has become a part of my every day.

Like waking up at Dawn, to meet the soft sunlight filtered into the room.

In fact, you are the first thing I think of as I awaken.

And the last thing I think of before I fall into the depths of sleep.


Last night I had such a strong urge to be near you.

I sat listening to the rain and dreamt of sitting by

Your side quietly talking and caressing your hand.

I dream of turning toward you after turning out the lights

And kissing your cheek as softly as the candlelight flooded the room.


Why do I feel so much for you

When everything and everyone would be so shocked if they knew?

Do I really feel this way?

Do you even know?

Could it just be my wanting to be loved?

But if this was the case,

Why are my dreams of you?


I guess all of my questions will

Never be answered

Especially when they are only

Asked by pen and paper.

I will continue to think of you and dream of being near.

Remember that these miles and our walls cannot hide you

From my world — at least not my dream world.



28 May 1991

Untitled #5

I wish you could see

The radiant moon

Shining through the clouds

That encircles it.

Through the misty windows.

I look out at the night

I dream of you and I

Together on a turbulent night,

Hidden from the darkness and

Danger of the stormy weather.

You and I lay there, in each other’s arms,


Yet there is a danger there

Between us.

The ultimate threat is not the devastation of the storm

Or the darkness of the night,

But rather our passion igniting this life.

Summer 1991

Little Things

The little things remind me of you

A song.

A tree.

The bridge where we walked and I cried.

A color.

A room.

All the sights of places we frequented together.


You ever think of me?

Do you ever wonder about the what ifs?

I do so very often,

More so than I would chose to admit.  Even to myself.


There are so many questions left unanswered.

And I guess, though, that I will always be plagued.

The way your smile and those green eyes plagued me.


I was day and you were night.

It seemed as though that’s how separate

our lives were; never to come together.


I wish I would have been more impulsive

Enough to meet you halfway in our clouded sky

but maybe it was not supposed to be that way.


Just a few words could have

made such a difference

but they were never spoken.


Would anything have been different?

I do know that you would have stirred my Soul

whether I had told you or not.


Sometimes I wish you had

not captivated my heart

and that I had never spoken those first words

But I was given so much.

Could I really have regrets?


I wanted to build a fortress

around you

and hide you from all the pain

that you felt inside.

But my fear of life and you

kept me from reaching out

the very way I wanted to.

I will never forget that mistake.


Instead of protecting you,

I locked myself away

in a tower on a hill

behind the walls

I fortified and all I wanted to hear was you call my name.


11 April 1991



You enter my life

Like the tides on the beach.

You rush in. . .

Erratically, swirling, turning, churning,

With excitement.

Any slide out of vision

Calmly as though you were never there.

All that remains is a few grains

of memories

of the beauty of our meeting.


Lines written before 1991

My Lover

As the candle danced

I looked into his eyes.

I saw warmth and caring there.

We never said a word,

We understood each other’s feelings.


It seemed like a scene

Rehearsed and blocked.

Every step, every touch

was right on cue.


I had never felt that way.

My heart shivered each time

he passed me.

Just to hear this name

Made me glow with delight

And everyone noticed the sparkle

he brought about in my eyes.


Could he see it in my expression?

Did he know how I felt?

I was afraid to speak.

I was afraid that he would

learn the truth.


And when I heard the rain

Upon the window sill,

I realized it had been a dream.

My lover was Imagination

Playing his cruel joke once again.


For BG

Lines Written before 1991



Untitled #3

I wish you could see

The radiant moon

shining through the clouds

that encircle it.

Through the misty windows,

I look out at the night

I dream of you and me

together on a turbulent night

hidden from the darkness and

danger of the stormy weather.

You and I lay there, in each other’s arms


yet there is the same danger there

between us.

The ultimate threat is not the devastating storm

or the darkness of the night

but our passion igniting the dawn.


Summer 1991