Thanksgiving Is a Moment to Remember

Thanksgiving is a moment to remember
How little we can do to move the stars.
All we are and have we must surrender,
Nor is Earth less inscrutable than Mars.
Knowing this, we know the need for friends
Sharing both our pleasures and our pain,
Giving, though it may not serve their ends,
In joy the love that will our love sustain.
Very much like water in a lake,
In sum we serve as mirrors to the sky.
No one alone can heaven's picture take.
Given friends, we know the reason why.
The Happiness I Feel at Your Achievements
The happiness I feel at your achievements
Reflects the happiness you feel at mine.
Friends expand the pleasures of such moments,
As mine in yours, and yours in mine, combine.
The same when we look forward to our futures:
So much more unfolds when there are two!
Populating your proposed adventures
Gives me a joy that mine must give to you.
We've been through much, and will be through much more,
But traveling together is more fun.
Whatever life and love may have in store,
Two is always preferable to one.
Your graduation thus becomes my pleasure:
Your happiness is mine, a double treasure.
We've Just Been Friends, and Now You're Going
We've just been friends, and now you're going
Far away for many years.
But please don't leave me without knowing
How I feel as your time nears.
I know you're older, more mature,
And far beyond me in some ways.
But there's between us something pure
That's given me these magic days.
I thank you for the loveliness
That your sweet friendship's brought to me.
Think of this poem as a caress
That says, "I love you" gracefully.
Why Did You Change
Why did you change? What did I do?
We were like brothers, and now
Your face is a wall without windows, while you
Abrogate what small claims you allow.
I don't understand what undid the sweet bond
That for years yielded nothing but joy.
I am who I was, and yet you respond
As though it were my aim to annoy.
Perhaps there's no why when some untoward wind
Whips away what we hold to our hearts.
Though bitter it be to leave loved ones behind,
It remains the most precious of arts.
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Valentine's for Lovers and for Friends

Valentine's for lovers and for friends.
All my love goes out to you this day!
Love is something different from desire:
Even, silent, peaceful as the sky.
Nor is love interested in means or ends.
There are no selfish needs that it must weigh.
Instead, love's plenitude itself inspires,
Needing neither cause nor reason why.
Each day my thoughts enchanted with you lie.
We Met Four Years Ago While Hunting Deer
We met four years ago while hunting deer,
And ever since that time we've been close friends.
I'm the killer, he's become the bear:
I love the layered message that this sends.
He drives two Chevy GMC's--one black,
And a red one that he calls the General.
Four-wheeling down some bumpy backwoods track
Is what makes him and me most comfortable.
We're buddies, even though a boy and girl,
And through the years our friendship's only grown.
Life gets to you sometimes as troubles swirl,
But he's the best ear I have ever known.
We have, of course, compatibility;
But, deeper, love and rough equality.
We're Never Completely in One Place
We're never completely in one place. Some part
Of us hangs out on streets we barely remember,
Or converses with faces no longer familiar. Or we start
Lunch in June, and sneak off into December.
Every encounter has a beginning, but never
An ending. Like an exquisite ecosphere,
The mind turns each raindrop into forever,
Nor does it allow one word to disappear.
Some evening, years from now, we'll be driving home,
Talking, I in your car, or you
In mine, driving through rich Iowa loam,
Or flowering Jersey suburbs, or Kalamazoo.
It will not matter, as we speak, whether
Our lives are bitter or sweet. We'll be together.

When I Was Young, I Thought You Hung the Moon
When I was young, I thought you hung the moon.
You cast your pleasures through my open heart
And lit my darkness. Then you moved away,
And my world lost its music. All I'd known
Drifted off like ashes, and the moon shone
Madly, as if there were no truth by day.
Now we've found each other, and the harsh
Moonlight of the time when you were gone
Has once again the ambiance of your art.
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I Love You, but I'm Not in Love with You

I love you, but I'm not in love with you.
I want your friendship minus your desire.
I would not lead you falsely or betray you.
I feel the tenderness, but not the fire.
I have no reason for my lack of yearning,
No explanation for what I don't feel,
No other love to whom I might be turning,
No anguish to suggest this isn't real.
Passion is a horse that knows no master,
And I cannot with fences make it stay.
It must run free towards daylight or disaster,
Awake to glory in no other way.
So I must say what you don't want to hear,
But it's a truth that both of us must bear.
I Miss You on Your Birthday
I miss you on your birthday,
Not only for your smile,
But for the piece of me that's gone,
Left within your care.
I'm in an empty hallway
And have been for awhile,
Gazing inwardly towards home,
Neither here nor there.
How quickly we've turned distant!
The months pass by like years.
How could friends so inseparable
So soon seem so apart!
How imprecise the instant
Held hostage by my tears!
Though Time may seem insatiable,
I have you in my heart.
I Pray for You and Wish I Could Do More
I pray for you and wish I could do more,
But more I cannot do from far away.
Like leaves before the wind we cannot stay,
Ripped dancing, dancing to the forest floor.
I wish I could your ailing health restore
And bring you to the strength of yesterday,
But all we mortal souls can do is pray
That God might alter what we have in store.
The beauty in our fragile life is love,
The only thing that makes the moment matter,
The golden thread that binds us all in light.
I wish, I wish I could your pain remove,
But like a wall the truth my will must shatter,
And so I send my prayers into the night.
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Graduation's Reason to Rejoice

Graduation's reason to rejoice,
Remembering what lies beyond our ends.
And so yours gives occasion to my voice,
Delighting in the gift of being friends.
Underneath your pleasure is my pride,
As yours remains the rock on which I stand.
The window through which I can see inside
Is hung upon the mirror in your hand.
One cannot be one without the other,
Nor can we be ourselves without another.
Friends in High School Are Forever Young
Friends in high school are forever young.
Unchanged, they're where you always will belong.
The crowd is never gone, the pleasure stays,
The music of the moment always plays,
The time remains a field of wistful grace
To which you may return from anyplace.
Of course, you may still know them later on
When you are someone else and years have run;
And you may love them dearly, and they you,
But time must make their friendship something new.
Meanwhile, flourishing within your heart
There is a whole, of which you were a part:
A group of friends, one in love and pain,
In whom your longing comes alive again.
Here Are Festive Flowers for Your Room
Here are festive flowers for your room,
A spray of springtime on your bare night table:
Placed upon a place within your view;
Placed where best to light your harried heart.
Yet my blossoms can't dispel your gloom,
Even were they many times more able:
All that gifts from loving friends can do
Sings just one unaccompanied inner part.
The music cannot come from aught but you,
Evangelist beside the empty tomb
Rejoicing with all innocence and art.
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Freedom Is a Casualty of Loving

Freedom is a casualty of loving,
As one must freely choose to be unfree,
Taking is, instead of what might be,
Holding onto essence for dear meaning.
Each father ought to be the nearest mountain,
Rock-solid, unmoving in his passion,
'Twixt wind and world the will no will can fashion,
Sustaining innocence through sheer intention.
Depths are in more places than below,
As those who dive for melody well know,
Yielding memories sunlit and certain.
Grandfathers Are Fathers Who Are Grand
Grandfathers are fathers who are grand,
Restoring the sense that our most precious things
Are those that do not change much over time.
No love of childhood is more sublime,
Demanding little, giving on demand,
Far more inclined than most to grant the wings
Allowing us to reach enchanted lands.
Though grandfathers must serve as second fathers,
Helping out with young and restless hearts,
Each has all the patience wisdom brings,
Remembering our passions more than others,
Soothing us with old and well-honed arts.
Grandfathers Are the Mountains We Call Home
Grandfathers are the mountains we call home:
Rugged, rock-faced remnants of our souls,
Alps far grander than our hills and knolls,
Now sheltering the fields through which we roam.
Dare we understand what they have been:
Fathers of the children of our dreams?
As we knew them, bathing in their streams,
They were the wakers of the gods within.
How beautiful they stand, though far away!
Each the guardian of a long lost child,
Reached alone by those whose love has smiled
So happily it danced right through their day.
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Farewell, My Friend and Confidante

Farewell, my friend and confidante!
As you go, so must I
Return upon the well-worn path
Each soul must travel by.
Wend where you will, my wanderer,
Even as you stay
Long-treasured in my lonely heart,
Loved well, though far away.
Good Luck, My Dearest
Good luck, my dearest! Come what may,
Our love will be the sea
On which you sail to golden shores,
Darling of the wind!
Love will bear you on your way
Until you're back with me,
Come home to peace amid your wars,
King of all within.
Goodbye, My Darling Foster Child
Goodbye, my darling foster child,
On to another home!
Open doors remain behind.
Do but turn, and you will find
Bestride your heart, my own.
You may the wind, unwept and wild,
Embrace, but not alone.
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Unlike Some, to Me Death Was a Gift

Unlike some, to me death was a gift:
No longer to live pointlessly in pain.
Choosing death, I might have on my own
Let loose the darkness gathered in my heart,
Except that luck has seen the matter through.
How simple, then, to let one's fortunes drift
Away from one, nor care for loss or gain.
Remember me as one who, not alone,
Relinquished well my moorings, to depart
Yet not without a backward glance towards you.
Undo Me, My Garments Are in Pain
Undo me, my garments are in pain.
Now I must crawl naked to your heart.
Can I not find there a place to lie?
Lovers' kisses linger when they part.
Even so, shall I with you remain.
Life's not flesh, nor does it end with death.
Its force, still radiant, fills each empty place.
Gone the star, the light still strikes the eye;
Gone the flesh, the soul retains its grace.
Your life, your love, your joy--these are my breath.
Understand Death Has No Use for Time
Understand death has no use for time.
No time is any better, any worse.
Cancel twenty years or eighty-nine,
Love's a loss one cannot reimburse.
Each of us lives for an eternity,
Dying only after our forever.
Early or late, we vanish equally,
All unconscious of the ties we sever,
No longer either separate or together.
There Was No Love More Genuine than Mine
There was no love more genuine than mine;
In giving and receiving it was pure.
Grieve not, for my legacy is pleasure,
Each memory a gift that will endure,
Returning you to moments fair and fine.
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Life Blessed Me with a Sunny Disposition

Life blessed me with a sunny disposition
Even as I lived through terrible storms.
Sport was my passion; justice was my mission.
The world, I thought, was something one reforms.
Embrace it, then, with all your warmth and joy!
Rebel, as I did, for, and not against,
Resolving to create, not to destroy,
Open-armed and loving, not incensed.
Delight, exuberance, a child's wonder --
Not naively did I these display.
Even though the wide world split asunder,
Yet one needs to live and love and play.

Make My Death a Canticle for Peace
Make my death a canticle for peace.
Evil has no greater friend than anger,
Making ready converts to its cause.
On me think but of beauty as you pause,
Remembering the service of a stranger
In giving life to purchase your release.
Armies live according to their art.
Love of life at times requires death,
Defending what would else find hungry jaws.
As you enjoy the gift of every breath,
Yet mourn for me with morning in your heart.

Make of Me Whatever You Desire
Make of me whatever you desire.
Empty me of everything but you.
Memory's the light without the fire,
Offering a glimpse of what will do.
Remember me for your sake, not for mine.
I'm nothing now but what you want to see,
A well-wrought miniature of your design,
Laid to rest within your marquetry.
Days of longing are for you alone
As I turn slowly into soil and stone,
Yielding what means nothing more to me.
Maybe I Was Skittish Among Strangers
Maybe I was skittish among strangers:
Only you, my loved ones, owned my heart.
Racing into hiding, I would know,
Given time, the foreigners would go:
Here was home, in which they had no part.
As though I knew my fate, I dodged all dangers;
Nor could I alter it, for all my art.
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The Cancer That Killed You Was Part of You Gone Quite Insane

The cancer that killed you was part of you gone quite insane:
The good run amok; death from life bursting awry,
Like a poor paranoid on a bell tower sniping away,
Killing the order that gives all the colony life.
Nature, of course, has madness built into its music,
Disturbing its peace with the agony all artists crave.
Perhaps that's what killed you: the one-in-so-many malfunctions
That chaos requires to shatter the oneness of light.
But chaos is aided in our time by greed in abundance:
Greed like a cancer destroying our colony Earth;
Greed that we eat, drink, and breathe, in our dreams, in our language;
Greed in the nuclei of our dwindling faiths.
What killed you, my loved one, is blended in recycled plastic
Spewing its toxins in micrograms into the sky.
Your life was a goat on the altar of modern convenience,
Bearing the sins of us all towards that merciless god.
We live in a world whose rulers are partners with death;
For whom cancer must be a number that balances out.
You were just perhaps the unlucky percent to be traded
For progress towards some CEO's end-of-year bottom line.
The Gift of Life Is Never More or Less
The gift of life is never more or less.
Either days or years are merely moments.
Reverence remains the source of bliss.
More memories do not increase remembrance.
If death must early come, then let it be
Nor more nor less than if it had come late:
A part of a much larger mystery,
Leaving wind and wisdom in its wake.
Longing is the music of our sphere,
Yearning for a time past time and space
In which all that we love is ever here,
Love everlasting, which is now our grace,
Living with us more than we can bear.
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Life Is Beautiful, My Child

Life Is Beautiful, My Child
Life is beautiful, my child,
Though many things go wrong,
And you may hear much sadness in
Its strange and lovely song.
Though friends and loved ones die, my child,
They're never really gone.
Nor more nor less than yesterday,
In you they will live on.
They will live on in you, my child,
As everything you see,
Though it must vanish, will remain
Alive in memory.
Alive in what you think and feel
And dream and say and do,
For all who ever were still are
Upon this earth in you.
Make a Little Time for Public Mourning
Make a little time for public mourning,
Easing the harsh pangs of hidden grief.
Maybe ritual tears will bring relief,
Offering a role for one's dark calling.
Remember the utility of sharing,
Inviting cloistered hearts to come outdoors
And dance with us along our barren shores,
Lost within the music of our longing.
Death requires our collaboration
As we render due commemoration,
Yielding sorrow to the common cause.
Matthew
Matthew is gone and will never be back.
Although we all loved him, we'll see him no more.
The beauty of life leads to anguish at death,
The fear and the hunger the price of each breath,
Held like a gift that has loss at its core.
Each day without Matthew renews what we lack,
Winds from the sea that make grief sing and soar.
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When Death Must Come at Christmastime

When Death Must Come at Christmastime
When death must come at Christmastime,
There is a special grief,
A mourning that must mix with joy,
A pain that must be brief.
There is an anguish underneath
The labyrinth of light
That longs for simple emptiness
To contemplate the night.
But life must bubble on its way
And pleasure be put on,
For neither sorrow nor delight
Is ever left alone.
And, like the Virgin, we must smile
With enigmatic grace
As we receive the fragile gift
That nothing can replace.
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Evil knight, wholly night,
Vests his dough in a young nerd bright.
Even so, the malevolent childe
Loses his shirt in a downturn mild,
Yielding sword and piece.
Now we will never have peace.
Angels often herd on high,
Nodding nimbly all the day.
God says little in reply,
Echoing what actors say:
Less is more-o-o-o-o-or-o-o-o-o-or-o-o-o-o-oria,
As one seeks the way-o.
There is no well, the angels did say,
In search of a hot tub in which they might lay,
Nor more than one shepherd to manage the sheep,
A lover of Oprah, demented but deep.
Praise be the shoppers, toyful and triumphant,
And the package tourists bound for Bethlehem.
Underneath their passions, they remain but angels,
Living to adore Him
As they serve other lords.
Give us what we're asking for, or we will you dismay.
In Heaven God may reign, but we want toys on Christmas Day!
Unless you do, some things you cherish well might go astray,
Like that Longines watch that long has been your joy, long your joy,
If you don't give in, you just might lose your joy!
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I Want You to Be Here with Me for Christmas

I Want You to Be Here with Me for Christmas
I want you to be here with me for Christmas,
Even if you leave your heart at home.
I know that lately my love makes you restless,
But it's too hard to spend this time alone.
My love for you is like the Christmas season:
Joyful, yet with knowledge of the end.
My need for you has neither hope nor reason:
If not a lover, please, just be a friend.
Please, just be a friend, and come to me
When all the world is bright with love and song.
You are my pillar and my fantasy,
My earth and yet the sky for which I long.
My need for you, of course, is mine, not yours,
Nor need you answer me but out of love.
This is the season when we open doors
To let in those whose need our hearts might move.
And after Christmas you may go your way
To leave me with my sadness and my dreams.
I have no right to bother you to stay,
Knowing how your heart, unaltered, leans.
I want you to be here with me for Christmas,
Even if you leave your heart at home.
What you decide, and why, is not my business,
But still for me it's hard to be alone.
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Charity Is like an Unsung Anthem

Charity Is like an Unsung Anthem
Charity is like an unsung anthem
Harmonizing everything we see.
A gift can be a work of silent witness,
Remembrance, reverence, unsought forgiveness,
Intention, labor, time, philanthropy.
The worth is measured only by redemption,
Yielding nothing but the grace to be.
Charity Should Make the Giver Sing
Charity should make the giver sing,
Happy in the undertow of sharing.
A gift should not be given out of duty,
Remiss in both its pleasure and its beauty,
Intent on rectitude, bereft of caring.
The burdens of the world may be worth bearing,
Yet gifts should still a certain lightness bring.
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