walking thoughts

breathing in the frosted midnight air,
my spirit forms a cloud,
a toonist's balloon,
"i have not long to wait,
the day is near;
what will be sung there?
what words will be said?
will anyone speak?
will anyone sing?"


photo is courtesy of Taddeus at Flickr.Com. under the Creative Commons Deed license, some rights reserved.

holding on

terror struck today
again
i have never felt
such fear

i could not breathe

knowing you will
someday leave me
not by choice
but by fate

goddamned illness
silently
slowly
taking you
from the ones who love you
of whom i am
only one
one of so many
you are too humble
to count them all

i turn my head
from you
so you will not see
my tears

i pretend to yawn
so you will not hear
the gasp
my shortened breath
my horrible grief

you deserved better
my love
but you took me
then
you made me

i would want
to be first
for i am
a coward
and living
in this terror
will prove
my inadequacy

but i must live
to care for you
to help you hide
from others
how impossible
your life is
so that you can
continue your brave
pursuits
your mission
of encouragement
and cheerfulness
to the many children
who love you
their teacher

and mine

dedicated to my wife of 27 years
(photo courtesy of chrfamily at flickr.com.)

kindling

never too far from me
is that essence
an aura
spirit
of leaping fire
lapping freely
on a black horizon
creator of images
stark
breathtaking
orange sculptures
of momentary brilliance
consuming the lifeless landscape
creating passion in its path

mesmerized
how shall i escape my destruction

must i

photo is courtesy of JasonDeFillipo via flickr.com

the meeting

awakened
by the roaring diesel engine

the produce truck
delivering the goods
chopped, picked and pulled
with hands like mine
though younger
and still strong

feeling the dampness of dawn coming
i would not rise with the sun
my knees
made good for nothing
from forty years of bending
stooping
for padron
his profits
his fortune
his seat at the table

i lay here to die
someday

if there is a god
i shall
soon

to prolong
this hell
the old man
my age
tucks a sack beneath the loading dock

finished
without looking
he tips his hand
in my direction
as he ably climbs aboard
his old diesel
and drives away

my home in this garden
among the johnsongrass and bottle caps
broken glass and colonies of ants
who never sleep
ratas gorging themselves
in the trough of a broken bottle
of karo syrup
lightened now by the cursed sun
marking the hell of living
another day

a habit asserts itself
i rise to my feet
shuffling to that concrete dock

removing the man's sack
i find the culls
a misshapen onion
too ugly to find a place at the table
leaves of lettuce
violently torn from their stalks
a ruby red
a fresh one
an escapee from padron's net

and
a dollar bill
for crackers
or milk
or a shirt from the church basement sale

finding the shade of an awning
behind the welding shop
away from traffic
i wait until nightfall
to return to my home

sitting there
i wonder
will i die first
or will he

photo courtesy of qwirksilver at flickr.com

no thinking

to have nothing to do
but sit today and watch the snowflakes
a texas rarity
every one finding its own path
of least resistance
until it meets its destruction below
would be a richer experience
if i still smoked a pipe
that burning coal of turkish latakia
eloquently blended with leathery red virginias
each puff drifting upward
against the traffic
dissipating
yet polluting the atmosphere
for other reformed smokers
who wish the same thing as i

thinking was made easier with smoking
breathing was not
today should be a thinking day
but the tin is empty

so from the window i watch
flakes of snow facing no opposition
as they melt into the earth

and i will live longer
they say
but without thinking

a long-ago kiss

never far away
is that memory of the day
when nothing else mattered
but telling you
and watching your eyes when told

the secret long held
restrained inhumanely
through years of yearning
and of wonder

your eyes bright with surprise
your mouth open, searching to form a word
your forehead wrinkling, empathy appearing
your head gently tilted, nodding side-to-side

and you said
i love you, too,
and i have for so long
but couldn't say it either

i reached toward your shoulder
brushing my hand softly against your hair

not wanting to presume too much
i asked politely,
may i kiss you?

awkwardly
though with consent
i let go of my fear
of crossing that forbidden line

pressing your lips to mine
you touched my face with your hands
i felt you breathing

my senses overwhelmed
with the punctuated thrill
of exuberant fingers of passion
wildly playing
rachmaninoff on every nerve
in my melting body

simply a kiss

without knowing it
my hands had found their way
around your waist
i rested them there
pulling myself back to look in your eyes
needing reassurance

what was in your mind
i do not know
but in mine
was the confirmation i sought
to know i was not mistaken
you loved me too

the fire has not died
my love

though you are somewhere far away
the embers burn
and on some nights
i lie on my pillow
listening to the rhapsody of that one moment
the piano softly inviting me
to kiss you again
and to feel again the stormy melody
of our first taste of passion

lux, amor, musica

light
love
music

lux
amor
musica

words we sing
with conviction now
but not at first

trudging along
learning harmonies not meant for singing, it seemed
where was the melody then

ahhhh
i heard it
finally

when the harmonies converged
no part alone should ever be sung
the harmony is the melody

i felt the majesty of the sunrise
the last two measures

the first sunrise
the virgin earth
toes digging in the mud
of the shallow stream
upon which the shadow of you fell
lux

i was naked
not alone
i breathed first
then you

you breathed
then I
amor

our spirits embraced
the sounds of morning
the first one
the first time
mysteries converged
musica

breathing again
drinking from the coolness

knowing your spirit
concealed by your flesh

groaning
humming
singing
dancing

lux
amor
musica

pax

The music to which I refer in this post, and thus the title of the post, is the creation of James Granville Eakin III. This fine and challenging piece of choral music will be performed at the American Choral Directors Association convention in Los Angeles in February 2005 by the Turtle Creek Chorale from Dallas, Texas.

doing life the hard way

it's so much easier to start something
than to finish it

it's so much easier to find a problem
than to solve it

it's so much easier to bitch and moan
than to compliment

it's so much easier to listen to music
than to make it

it's so much easier to repel love
than to attract it

it's so much easier to whine
than to be cheerful

it's so much easier to ignore
than to care

if life were any easier
it wouldn't be as happy
as it is now

because
now i love
now i sing
now i care

mid-life thinking

A reflective day today, I had too much time to think.
Thoughts of aging were prominent.
Memories were mostly the sad kind.

I miss my daughter who is away at college.
My wife is getting older, and her diabetes is causing her serious problems.
My mother is very much alive, but she is really slowing down.

And, the lines in my face, especially my forehead
Cause me to think of how time is passing by
Leaving me with some regrets
And a huge reality check:
I will never be young enough again to raise my child better
I will never go to bed again with the ability to sleep through the night without having to go to the bathroom at least once
I will never see my dad again
I will never be rich
I will never be a rock star, a professional athlete, or a great lover

There are lots of "I'll nevers"
But there are lots of "I shalls" still
And, these are what I shall think about.

the night of my life

in the month of december
while a junior student in college
at a small-town baptist university
a woman walked into my life

it was a scene typical of a small college town
saturday night
nothing to do
catch a movie
drink beer if you had enough money to buy some
drive around on the strip
look for love

well, on that saturday night
i found love

i had seen her on campus many times
had admired her beauty the entire fall term
but never did i think she would notice me

i was a junior
a football player
she, a band majorette
the two groups didn't think much of each other
nevertheless
on that saturday night
leaving the movie theater with two male friends
"blazing saddles" as i recall
she was with three of her friends

one of my friends knew one of her friends
and he invited them to join us on a ride
in the back of his pickup truck

remember...cold night
stars were bright
three guys
four girls

eventually it got too cold
and all seven of us ended up in the cab of the truck
there she was, the one i had admired,
sat in my lap the rest of the evening

i went to the dorm afterward
and told my roommate
"i met the girl i'm going to marry"
three years later,
we married
twenty-six years later, we still are

still beautiful
inside, especially

she knows of my writing
she accepts my weirdness
i accept hers

our love is getting stronger every day

i love decembers
cold nights
the stars bright in the texas sky

life couldn't be much better

an emotional affair

i know what it is like to want to have sex with someone
for several years
resisting it because i had to do so

she was married
so was i

going to work every day
to a building unoccupied by anyone but the two of us
she, incredibly attractive
a warm and gentle and loving person
me, sensitive
attractive enough, I suppose
both, in need of affection and intimacy
our marriages defunct of it

still, it is wrong, i know
she knew, too

the first time I "came out" to her
with my feelings
was quite by accident

i had been away from the office for a week
on a trip
staying in a hotel room all alone
a boring convention
i was alone for many days

i spent day and night
thinking of her
and calculating what the real costs might be
to let her know about my feelings
she knew i had them,
and i knew she had them, too

my first day back in town
i wanted to tell her, but i didn't until
she was leaving for the day
and i said something like
"i thought about you a lot while i was gone,
and i think i need to tell you something"

she said, "okay"

she was on her way out the door
and i told her that i needed to think about
how i wanted to say it
and that we would talk the next morning
but,

when i got home
i called her
and i told her that i was attracted to her
her sensitivity, her loving,
and that our friendship was much more to me
than just any old friend

she said she felt the same way

i was relieved
the cat out of the bag
she assured me she would be okay until we talked in the morning

i was sitting at my desk
when she came in, and i
was anxious to see her eyes
so i could see if she was afraid
or maybe even as excited as i was

i had tears
so did she
they were both happy tears
and deeply sad tears
because we knew there was hardly a way out
we were already too deeply into our intimacy
and we had just discovered it for the first time

we made a choice
eventually a painful one
as we had some physically intimate moments
never consummated in intercourse
but incredibly passionate and exciting

for two years
two very long years

we agreed after two years that we needed to end it
and we did
but the feelings are there
and they are there still

i haven't seen her in twelve years
haven't spoken to her in eleven years

my wife knows
i told her

and i also learned some things about my wife
she too had had a relationship for three years
i knew nothing about it
never suspected it

forgiveness is difficult at first
but the healing it brings
opens a pathway for love

if the other woman
(i won't use her name,
though it discredits her
to speak of her anonymously like this)
were to cross my path now
i'd hold her in my arms again
though my love for my wife is
strong, powerful and incredibly deep

how can love be so strong
and be so threatened by another

tell me

sinking feelings
strikingly similar to depression
are tapping on my window
and i feel sorry for them
wanting to let them in out of the cold

i know they are my worst enemy -
oh, the things they talk me into!
i've been forewarned
and I've been reminded
tap, tap, tap, tap
"hey, you in there
let me in
it's cold, and you could use some company"

deceit
but still i feel sorry for them

tap...tap tap...tap tap tap
"hey you...hey!
where 're you goin' dude
let me in."

not tonight
it's time for bed
and, of course,
fantasy

my first massage

michael was good
strong hands and soft voice

the occasion?
a weekend at harrah's

he left me alone
with instructions
to remove my clothes
all of them
and to cover myself with a peach colored sheet he had folded on the table

i removed my shirt and put it on a hook
my shoes and socks crumpled on the floor but out of the way
my jeans?
no problem, i do this all the time at the gym
my underwear...
my underwear...hmmm

did michael mean
all my clothes?

thinking "yes"
i slipped them off
not wanting them to be seen
i removed my shirt from the hook and put my underwear on the hook
then i covered them up with the shirt

now to lie down
on the table with the peach sheets
front or back?

a tad self-conscious
and fearful of the tickle in my groin
i decided to lie on my front
ummm
feels very good

i sank into the mattress
smelling the freshness of the sheets
scented with something
more or less spicy
like apple cinnamon

i noticed the music for the first time
soft and subtle and sexy
chopin, i think

lights were dim
relaxation imminent

michael softly tapped on the door
"i'm ready"

he spoke softly
whispering in my ear
telling me what i should expect
"a massage is supposed to be relaxing,
not painful.
if i hurt you at any time, just raise your finger
or whisper
but try not to talk"

with tiny circles
michael's strong soft hands
released years of imprisonment,
a liberation
a coup d'etat

touching my legs softly
just below my hips
a rushing sensation
a tingling
a longing
"touch me there"
i thought but did not say

michael worked harder
the circles became harder and deeper

pressing his thumbs and knuckles
into the tissue
working his way upwards

then he touched me
pressing deeply into muscles
where so much tension rests
my hardness increased
and i was not afraid

michael spoke again
"do you feel the tension leaving you?"
"yes"
i tried to say
but it caught in my throat
and i could not speak

lightly he ran his fingers
from there down the full length
of the back of my legs

covering me again with the peach sheet
michael left the room
telling me to take as long as i needed
to leave
and he would see me on my to the
eucalyptus steam room

for a few minutes i wondered
if feeling this good was a sin
if michael was gay
if i should have been gay
if maybe i really am gay
if it really mattered
if just maybe
pleasure is pleasure

michael was just outside the door
when i opened it
our eyes met
mine quickly shifted
it was just business then
seventy-five dollars
and,
"now, where is that eucalyptus steam room you were telling me about?"

suppressed for years

department store dressing room
with my cousin chris

an abandoned shack in a growing neighborhood
with my cousin mike

a golf course restroom
with my cousin bobby

a rugged and hidden drainage ditch
with my neighbor jerry

a gathering in an attic
on a cold night
with several football teammates
in high school
on a weekend night
swearing to our secrets

a kiss on the mouth
with my cousin ricky

playing doctor as a child
with my friend andy

what was this all about?

is it queer
i mean, really queer

her first time

there was a girl named Judy
when i was in college
a religious girl
deprived of intimate encounters
until one night she wanted to kiss me
i kissed her and learned that she
though inexperienced
had long contemplated the passion of it

to my surprise
she touched me
i opened my eyes to look at hers
yes she said

she was a tiny girl
cute and tasty
passion long held back
unleashed

i was not a conqueror
i was a beneficiary of the surrender
of her carnal desires

twice we loved that cold night
she thanked me for my gentleness
i did not say anything
i marveled at her sweetness
her first experience of passion

i saw her the next day
she was still smiling
confident she had trusted her experience
to someone who respected the moment
for what it was
never to be forgotten...

or regretted.