The Gift

She came to me laughing
Her hair gleaming
In the ambient light
Of the lengthening day.

She gave herself to me tenderly
Opening her heart
Before her body.

I received her
As sacrament
As bread and wine
Renewal for my soul.

She was my teacher
Showing me the worth
Of my being.

I was a spirit
In dry places
Homeless in my heart.

She changed that.

Looking back
From where I now stand
I view the gift
I was given.

At the time I thought it was her love.

But now I know
It was my life.

Declaration ‘11

In an hour
The numbers advance.
Up to now I’ve seen them
As mile markers
Of territory past.
Hereon the numbers will represent
Distance remaining.

I am lightening my load
Releasing old ties
Taking the measure of the man.

It’s time to sweep my soul.
Take out the trash.

Refit.

I have drawn a line in the sand.
To step beyond it
Is to enter a new dimension
A new relationship
With myself.

I have determined
To express my soul
To issue orders to
My own heart.

I have lived long enough to know
I cannot change anything
Or anyone
But myself.

My soul is open for business
During remodeling.

Pardon my dust.

Tell Me, Please

I wonder
Does anyone celebrate your breath
Rising like steam
Into January nights?

Is there another
To joy
At the rise and fall
Of your breasts, as you lay sleeping?

Does anyone stop
What they’re doing
To watch you
Towel dry?

Is there a mind
That drifts
Like timber in a stream
Toward imaginations of you?

Is there a throat
To sing of your glory
Before the admiring stars
In crisp, midnight skies?

Is there a lover
Straining to hear your
Faintest whisper
Your most heartfelt prayer?

Love is rare
And holy
And given only to those
With quivering hearts.

Is there one?
Tell me, please.
Because love like this
Comes but once.

Spanish is the Lovin' Tongue

Sometimes the lyrics of songs stir me so much there is nothing to do but post them. I wish it were possible to include the melody. All I can do is encourage you to listen to Michael Martin Murphy's rendition on his Cowboy Songs cd, from 1990. A little Tequila might help set the mood.
I wish I'd penned this song. Regardless of it's author, and despite the locale in which it is set, I've lived its theme.
Every man likely has, in memory, the face of one who couldn't "cross the border" with him. You'll meet her again in:
Spanish is the Lovin' Tongue

Spanish is the loving tongue,
Soft as music, light as spray:
'Twas a girl I learned it from,
Living down Sonora way.
I don't look much like a lover,
Yet I say her love words over,
Often when I'm all alone --
"Mi amor, mi corazón."
Nights when she knew where I'd ride
She would listen for my spurs,
Fling the big door open wide,
Raise them laughin' eyes of hers;
And my heart would nigh stop beating
When I heard her tender greeting,
Whispered soft for me alone --
"Mi amor, mi corazón."

Moonlight in the patio,
Old Senora nodding near,
Me and Juana talking low
So the Madre couldn't hear;
How those hours would go a-flyin'!
And too soon I'd hear her sighin'
In her little sorry tone --
"Adios, mi corazón!"

But one time I had to fly
For a foolish gamblin' fight,
And we said a swift goodbye
In that black unlucky night.
When I'd loosed her arms from clingin'
With her words the hoofs kept ringin'
As I galloped north alone --
"Adios, mi corazón!"

Never seen her since that night --
I can't cross the Line, you know.
She was "Mex" and I was white;
Like as not it's better so.
Yet I've always sort of missed her
Since that last wild night I kissed her;
Left her heart and lost my own --
"Adios, mi corazón!"

Reasoning With Shadows

I have waited many years
Hoping for word
From you.

Every day and every night
Empty skies
Starred at me.

And still I waited.

I consulted with myself:
You were angry
Hurt
You despaired.

I tried to imagine
You happy.
I wanted to think
You were well and whole.

Why reason with shadows?

I pushed down the memories
Shoving them into
Dark corners.

But they returned
Like a swelling tide.

Images of you haunted me
Chased me from room
To room
You were there
On the roadside
There
In the shops
Everywhere I was
You were, too.

But you were always mute.

Uncommunicative in word
And cold in action.
I waited for a bottle to wash ashore
With a note enclosed
A star to streak the night sky
A yellowed letter
Arriving impossibly late
Something to tell me
You remembered.

Until word comes
I wear sorrow
Like a coat
Eat sadness
Like bread
My drink is bitter
And my skies are bronze
All for the want of you.