Monday, April 04, 2011


One step at a time.
A good approach
until tears blind us
to the stairs.
Crawling it is.


Piano arpeggios,
the smell of the stage,
red velvet curtains,
the turn of a page,
faceless bodies
a hushed crowd,
careful words
sung aloud,
a spotlight blinding
your tortured stare,
yet somehow still
you found my chair,
and whispered Brahms
like a verboten

Sunday, April 03, 2011


I trespass where he hides,
where spring fog hangs heavy
and the sound of the lapping sea
weaves melodies that never could,
never should be,
suffocating the harmony,
quickly disarming me,
I am found.
He steals my weapons
and flees.