Caro Mia

For all your cynicism,
you love with the heart of
the innocent.

For all your cranky moods,
you cheer and lift
like no one I've ever met.

For all your humility,
your intellect thrills and informs,
you are my teacher.

And for all your woundedness
(aren't we all),
you let me heal you and in doing so
I heal myself.

amazing,
adored,
revered,

you are.

Perchance To Dream (song)

Could you dream,
perchance to dream
of kisses faded by the past?
Could you dream of lovers lost,
forever parted from your grasp?
Could you dream,
sweet violet dreams,
that every day forever lasts?

Could you dream
of your small child,
laughing like the summer sun?
Could you wish for one more day,
when laughter was a cause to run?
Could you dream
perchance to dream
that his pure heart is never broken?

Could you dream
a sepia-colored dream,
when you were small
and love was yours?
Could you dream
a clear blue dream,
that it is still as you believed?
Could you live,
perchance to live
in this moment, on this day?
Can you see, can you breathe in,
that it's all yours anyway?

Could you dream,
perchance to dream,
that all is well,
and you are love?

Fly Away (a song)

I fail myself
almost every day
it's more tempting all the time
to just give up and fly away

It is what it is,
this heart that is mine
these thoughts that live in my home
how kind they could be
if they would leave me alone
leave me alone

I fail my love
almost every day
he thinks I am beautiful
he doesn't see the pain
and he rarely feels the rain

It is what it is
this heart that wanders now
through every European city
wishing for a life
that she doesn't lead but
once did

what happened to that girl?
How did I get here?
How can I get out?
I remember now, I can't. I won't.

In that smile, that laughter
it's worth it every day
I bet I fail him too
I try to be the sun
I try to be the moon for him
the steady beating of his mother's love
I can't beat from afar
so I am here.

I fail myself
almost every day
it's tempting
to give up
and fly away.

Whispered Bed

There you lay

above my head

there you lay 

in our whispering bed

sleep overtook you

after crimson felt

after violet said

now you lay dreaming

in our whispered bed

teach stone-strong trust

teach strong surrender

teach me to wrap myself

against long winters

teach wide heart gates

teach patient waits and wise retreats

teach me to walk without

you here in summer's heat

Now there you lay

above my head

in silent dreams 

in our whispered bed

I'll walk right up

tread after tread

lay by your side

in our whispered bed.

Night Sky (I Believe in Love)

I believe in the night sky
in the power of a lullaby
in being kind
in searching until I find
in the ocean and the wind
in the power of a friend
in a touch, a kiss, a hug
I believe in love

I believe in frightened chills
and in climbing tall green hills
I believe that the heart grows
yes it does
yes it does
I believe in a deep sigh
in almost always asking why
I believe in things I can not see
I can not see
never see
never see

I believe grace lives with age
in the powers of love and rage
in words and tears and pain
and it's all beautiful, all beautiful

But what do I know?
just that the heart can always grow
if we believe
if we believe
if we believe
in the night sky

In Blue I See My Life (a song)

In blue I see my life
funny how it looks in blue
indigo and robin's egg,
into blue sky I fly away

All the colors
that rain down on us
teach us hope and light
and whisper how to trust

In red I see my life,
funny how it looks in red
fire storm of setting suns
and hearts and passions.

In gold I see my life
funny how it looks in gold
shining like a pirate's treasure
even in ocean's stormy weather

Tucked into this lovely life
are all the colors, peace and strife
tumbling over rainbow clouds
and I have to say out loud

In green I see my life
funny how it looks in green
Mermaidy and leaf deep
green that hurts your eyes, first of spring

We'll never tire of the colors
of love
of passion
of whispered indigo nights

And down the road
I'll turn to you and say
In white I see my life
funny how it looks in white
and you'll laugh with me, too.

A Good Birth Day

The hand cannot grasp water
but two hands, cupped, catch it
The hands cannot make rain
but patience awaits it
and two hands, cupped, catch it.

Life is a flood
that overflows the borders
made by our hands
but still there is enough
to drink.

The hand does not grasp water
but the cup of the hands offers
as much water as the hands
can carry
to the lips.

A year is the span of rain and rivers
that two hands, open
receive within their borders
and carry
to the lips.

(This poem was written by my friend Mark Schultz, for my birthday in 2006. I just found it while looking through memorabilia this evening and cleaning out my bedroom closet. A treasure, Mark. Thank you.)

What I Know Best

What I know best
is the darling way you talk with your hands,

the feel of your firm, warm cheek against mine.

What I know best
is the fly-free joyful noise of your gorgeous laughter,

the feel of your arm around my hip as I fade into the land of dreams.

What I know best
is the almost-but-not-quite cocky confidence of your sincerely passionate words,

the feel of your impossibly soft hands on my beaming face and in my hair.

What I know best
is everything you are, the magical light in your earthen eyes,

the feel of your ever-wounded, never failing, bigger-than-Life, container-of-Love heart.

I know you.

Buon Compleanno, caro mia.

October 21, 2008

A blessing is a wondrous thing,
on this day I know,
your day of birth was one of those,
a star-filled night, just so.

A quiet little sapling he,
who barely said a thing,
he wasn't watered very much,
but to himself would sing.

Some trees grow so very strong,
to spite a lack of light,
and reach the tallest heights they can,
almost beyond our sight.

It takes a rare and gentle soul,
to turn into one who,
gives this sort of steadfast love,
though really taught not to.

So Happy Birthday, caro mia
there aren't enough words to start,
to describe the person you've become,
sharp mind, deep soul, true heart.

ti amo,
fiocco de neve

Another Day (a song for Davi)

Under lights I see my life
funny how it looks in blue
Under moons from long ago
my heart leans into you.

It's another day
another day
my arms are empty still
another day
another day
I'll sigh, and then you will

In the dark I see my life
funny how it looks in black
Under stars from long ago
it seems you've got my back

Its another day
Another day
I long to lay with you
another day
another day
bittersweet things, we go through.

In whispers I hear my life
funny how it sounds in grey
Softly make me all your own
hold my hand through -

Another day
another day
I long to laugh with you
it's another day
another day
I hope you will, some way.

Night Owl (a poem)

Under the gauze of moonlight, whose sleep is for the sane

heaviness of silken clouds gives way to autumn rain
summer's flowers fade again, but speak with no disdain
beauty is, and is again, with strength to thus remain.

Softly, they hold your name, dear one, as butterflies alight
barely a print, left in sand, the leaver of it, unknown
like stars expressed from mountain tops, twinkling white-hot bright
shine into eternity, to home, to home, to home.

Your Muse

Igniting ancient fires,

within,

without,

seen,

invisible.

My breath,

gives flames

their fuel.

My body -

mine,

yours.

I am.

Your muse.

When You Were a Little Boy

I just left my 9 year old son's room, where we snuggled together in the dark before sleep, as we've done since his birth.

I hope I never forget this moment:

Me: If you want to be an oceanographer, you'll probably want to go to college near the ocean.
Son: But I would miss you mama.
Me: Well, I'll just move there. I want to live at the ocean again anyway.
Son: We can never leave this house, mama.
Me: You can't be an oceangrapher in Iowa, there is no ocean here.
Son: I can study at the lake.
Me: But then you'd be a lakeographer.

silence . . .my son thinks about this.

The "night-night" music plays, and I feel his little body relax into sleepiness. I realize, as I sometimes do, that these nights are very numbered. In a year or two, more or less, he won't want me to cuddle with him at night, as it should be.

Me: When you are a big man, I will always remember the nights we listened to night-night music in the dark, when you were a little boy.

My son feels me crying, he can tell there are tears in my eyes, and he turns to look at me. We tickle each other and laugh.

Learning

That loved-up old
blue bear,
waits on your bed,
the keeper of your heart,
for now.

And I am here
listening to silence,
touching the space where you
breathe into the night.
I am learning
to miss you.

Can you hear the rain? (a song)

Can you hear the rain?
It's falling all around again . .
Can you hear my heart?
It's falling all around again.

Time goes so slowly by,
all I want is to sing you a lullaby,
and no matter what I try,
I'm left far away, I sigh.

Can you hear the rain?
it's falling all around again . . .
Can you hear my heart?
It's calling you again.

This sweet and bitter distance,
I won't let it get us.
This love meets no resistance,
and it flows where it will, where it will.

Can you hear the rain?
it's falling all around again,
flooding where it's empty
I think of us, and float again.

Some Things Just Are (a song for Davi)

See that moon up in our sky?
Does it ever ask why,
it shines on everything?
See that plane flying high?
Does it ever ask why,
it brings me back to you again?

We could ask a thousand questions
about this love and its directions,
but I don't need any reasons to know:
I'll be with you.

Some things just are
like the blazing sun and the stars,
like the ocean and the wind,
when you find your precious friend.
Some things just are,
you and me are one of those things,
my heart glows every time I look at you,
some things just are.

See that smiling rose in bloom?
Hear the stillness of this silent room?
Feel the wind say a thousand things?
Hear the music rock us to our little dreams?

Some things just are
like the sun and the stars,
like the ocean and the wind,
when you find your whispering friend.
Some things just are,
you and me are one of those things,
my heart glows every time I look at you,
some things just are.

It's Another Beautiful Day (a song for my cousin Casey)

My amazing cousin Casey Michael Niel Kent passed away recently. I didn't know him well as an adult, as his family moved away to Montana when we were all young, but he inspires me all the same. You can read and listen to more about Casey here:


I got home from work,
brought in the mail,
let the dog out,
like I always do . . .

then it hit me
like a tidal wave,
the world is less kind now,
it lost you.

But is it really so?
Is the day less magical
because we've let you go?

It's another beautiful day
isn't that what you would say?
take a flying leap into the sky,
it's another beautiful day.
Isn't that what you'd want me to say?
The sun is still here, somehow
it's another beautiful day.

I rushed to the northbound train
passed her with
her seeing eye dog last week
and I thought of you,

walked back some steps
just to ask if she needed help,
what would Casey do?
what would you do?

It's another beautiful day
you wouldn't have it any other way,
it doesn't take much, just to be kind,
it's another beautiful day.
Close your weary eyes,
and open your mind,
it's another beautiful day.

Perfect Sunday Morn (a song)

Breathe yourself into me
take my hand in yours,
take your sweet time
and don't let go, love,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

This bed is the best place
in the world right now,
(yes, it really is)
in the space between
a whisper and a kiss,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

This might be my favorite day
that ever came to be,
I get the chance to hold
and pray and dance you
on this perfect Sunday morn.

Shelter me with all you are
cradle me at last,
touch me up to heaven,
place your heart in mine
I'll bury mine in yours,
on this perfect Sunday morn.

Let's always feel like this
maybe just one more perfect kiss,
on this shining Sunday morn.

Musti the Teddy Bear

When my son was about 1 year old, maybe less, a small bright blue bear came hurtling through the atmosphere on his way to my son's crib. He was on a mission to be Max's companion and best friend, through thick and thin. He was sent from the Blue Planet to befriend the most special, funniest, smartest, most beautiful child he could find. He found Max. His blue rocket landed in the alley near my house. I took him inside and put him in my son's crib.

Max and Musti have been steadfast companions through thick and thin, for about 10 years now. There is something innocently sweet and insanely beautiful about the many photos of Max holding Musti. Some of them, I’ve surreptitiously taken while Max slept. I probably won’t show them to Max’s prom date, I couldn’t violate the sanctity of the Max/Musti relationship that way.

Indigo (a poem)

Sleepy skin on sleepy skin,
cheek to chest, I breathe you in,
to the land of Nod we're halfway up,
when desire drips, tips the cup.

Wanting spills all over us,
a darkened, hushed, and crimson lust,
mix of chemistry and trust,
we mustn't, too tired, but then,

we must.

Reaching deep inside you find,
the lock is turned, I unwind,
exotic olive on alabaster,
find my heart, spinning faster.

Glowing moon above,
illuminates this scene of love,
delicious feelings bodies know,
whispering sighs in indigo.