You Are to Me a Very Special Sun

You are to me a very special sun
That shines upon a world few ever see,
A world I'm shy to show to everyone,
That hides its urgent truth from even me.
Without your light it is a world of darkness;
Its heaven and its hell lie fast asleep.
With you as sole and sympathetic witness,
The words come forth from out my vasty deep.
And so I cannot be myself without you;
No one is whole without some loving friend.
There is a quiet joy in me about you
That lets me say what I need not defend.
Long may we serve each other to give light
To all the loveliness that haunts the night.
You Have a Smile that Lights the World
You have a smile that lights the world,
Shining from within,
Breaking out between the clouds
That form the skin of self.
Lucky we, to live nearby
That unpretentious sun,
To share its fire, to feel its love,
To know its warmth so well.
Just as the sun's sweet liquid joy
Is captured in the wine,
So with us your happiness
Is captured in our lives.
Your Friendship Is the Sky Above My Home
Your friendship is the sky above my home,
The crystal air I breathe, through which I see.
I can't believe how much you mean to me.
Without you with me, time would turn to stone.
I don't know why I need you so, or how
I know so absolutely I'll be there
In times your wounded heart can hardly bear.
I only know this truth is with me now.
Why is it in our lives that we need friends
To be awake and fully what we are?
Alone we dream but never cross the bar;
With you I share a grace that never ends.
Your Laugh Is like a Silver Bell
Your laugh is like a silver bell:
Clean and light and free;
Just like the hours of happiness
Your friendship brings to me.
You're like a room of sweet wind chimes
Enlightened by a breeze,
Or like an open, grassy field
Dotted with old trees.
I'm grateful for the things you do,
But more for what you are:
A breath of clear, bright open sea,
Of life beyond the bar.
I Would Not Be the Sun to End Your Night
I would not be the sun to end your night,
Nor would I be the wall to turn your tears.
But I will watch with you until it's light.
Because there are no words to set things right
Nor hopes that one immersed in mourning hears,
I would not be the sun to end your night,
Offering a wisdom far too bright
To soothe your pain or put to rest your fears.
But I will watch with you until it's light.
There must be time to grieve that sorrow might
Be equal to the love of days and years.
I would not be the sun to end your night.
For grief, before it breaks, must reach its height,
And tides must turn before one homeward steers.
But I will watch with you until it's light.
There are agonies no friendship can requite,
A bitterness unstained till dawn appears.
I would not be the sun to end your night.
But I will watch with you until it's light.
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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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For Most of Us Life Passes like a Dream

For most of us life passes like a dream,
Revealing only what is on our minds.
Inside the prison of the self we see
Each object as a shadow on our wall.
Nothingness awaits, as sure as night.
Did I not have you, dear friend, I might,
Shadow on a shade, not be at all.
How much we need a word beyond our sea:
In love and laughter, thoughts of different kinds,
Perhaps, with luck, unraveling a seam.
Forgive Me if I Come into Your Bed
Forgive me if I come into your bed,
Open wounds to read therein your shame,
Remove your skin to gaze on naked sorrow,
Tear out your heart to substitute my name.
You wish, no doubt, to keep your personhead.
One we are, and one will be tomorrow;
No one is ever utterly unwed.
Even strangers are one flesh in joy and pain.
Friends Are Prisoners of Expectation
Friends are prisoners of expectation,
Reflected in the mirror of their need.
Instead of being happy on their own,
Each knows that one cannot survive alone,
Nor think unless another plants the seed.
Dependent all for person on relation,
So to be fed, must one the other feed.
Goodbye, Dear Friend and Graduate
Goodbye, dear friend and graduate!
Our golden time is over now,
Our time of nothing more than time,
Days of simply being friends.
But I will always treasure how
Your love for me slipped into mine,
Embracing me where courage ends.
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Happiness Is Served by Celebration

Happiness is served by celebration,
As one could use reminders of one's worth.
Praised be days devoted to relation,
Preserving ties of friendship, love, and birth.
Yet uncles have no day, so this must do --
Father's Day, on which we recognize
All close male relatives, so, too,
They might see themselves through our eyes.
Here's to you, then, an uncle who plays well
Each well-considered role in which you're cast,
Restoring far more faith than you can tell --
'Tis the smallest gestures that will last.
So may you enjoy your destined part,
Devoted to the duties of the heart,
An uncle, near or distant, who remains
Yet one of those whose love a child sustains.
Happiness Lies Just This Side of Heartache
Happiness lies just this side of heartache,
As both are set aflame by one desire.
Perhaps one would best never light that fire,
Pursuing pleasure purely for its own sake.
Yet joy can be as fragile as a snowflake,
Full as oceans, brutal as barbed wire.
All your love is all that you require,
The grace that inundates the granite heartbreak.
How beautiful to take on such a burden,
Entering into contract with the void,
Responsible to some judgmental stranger,
'Ere meeting, for the seedtime of its soul!
Sing, then, of a quest that gains no guerdon,
Dearer far than pleasures now enjoyed,
A journey arduous and full of danger,
Yet sacred for the gift that is its goal.
Hands Are a Bond Between Father and Son
Hands are a bond between father and son,
A tool that one teaches the other to use,
Needing to pass on the passion, or lose
Doing what long generations have done:
Sowing the seeds of what they have begun.
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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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Every Time I See My Pansies

Every Time I See My Pansies
Every time I see my pansies
Vivid in the golden sun,
You are with me in my garden,
And I am once again a child.
Vivid in the golden sun,
Their beauty brings me close to tears,
And I am once again a child
Learning to assume your grace.
Their beauty brings me close to tears
As I join hands with you in love,
Learning to assume your grace,
Dancing to your inner music.
As I join hands with you in love,
You are with me in my garden,
Dancing to your inner music
Every time I see my pansies.
Fathers Need Not Fathers Be
Fathers need not fathers be.
All one needs to do is choose
To love for life, and that embrace,
Held long and hard, bestows the grace
Each craves. For all in time must lose,
Restored alone by memory.
So now it is with you and me.
Father's Day Without You Is like Music
Father's Day without you is like music
Muted by a distance undisturbed.
It is so faint I cannot tell the feeling,
Though I myself am gripped with pensive sorrow.
I listen all the more for what I cannot
Hear, and you are somewhere close beside me.
"It's joy!" you say, and then I nod, unbending,
Listening still while weeping like fine rain.
Yes, it's joy, and you again are with me.
I turn to you, and I am in your arms.
The music is a rhapsody around me,
And I am safe again and free to cry.
It is so beautiful, I cannot stand it,
I am a torrent, shaking in my gladness,
And you recede, as distant as the music,
Smiling dimly far across the plain.
"Please, please!" I say, yet know that what I'm asking
No longer is. Your day will come and go,
And I will crave and fear its restless turning
Because my happiness must be my pain.
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Our Mother Is the Sweetest

Our mother is the sweetest and
Most delicate of all.
She knows more of paradise
Than angels can recall.

She's not only beautiful
But passionately young,
Playful as a kid, yet wise
As one who has lived long.

Her love is like the rush of life,
A bubbling, laughing spring
That runs through all like liquid light
And makes the mountains sing.

And makes the meadows turn to flower
And trees to choicest fruit.
She is at once the field and bower
In which our hearts take root.

She is at once the sea and shore,
Our freedom and our past.
With her we launch our daring ships
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I'm Sorry I Can't Tell You What

I'm sorry I can't tell you what
I'm sure you'd rather hear,
But there's a burden in my heart
I can no longer bear.
There's an anger I must cross
Before I come to you
And make my peace with who you are,
And try your soul anew.
I know I wasn't what you wanted
When you wanted me,
A healthy, happy baby girl
You could raise easily.
I was born impaired, and you
Have never understood
That what I am is whole and fair
And beautiful and good.
You were sorry, first for me
And then for you, and wept,
But I would not be me without
The fact that I am deaf.
I am a gift to celebrate
And not a cause to grieve.
As a child this was what
I needed to believe.
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The desperate song

The desperate song

Your memory of the night when I am emerges.
The River tied to the sea its stubborn lament.

Abandoned as the docks at the dawn.
It is the time of departure, abandoned oh!

Cold Corollas it raining down on my heart.
Oh, bilge debris, fierce Cave of shipwrecked!

You accumulated wars and flights.
Wings of song birds they raised you.

All you what you tragaste, as the remoteness.
As the sea, as the time. Everything in you was wreck!

It was joyful time of the assault and the kiss
The hour of the stupor that burned like a beacon.

Anxiety of pilot, diver blind fury,
turbid love drunk, everything in you was wreck!

In the childhood of fog, my soul winged and wound.
Discoverer lost, everything in you was wreck!

I made back the shadow wall,
I walked beyond the desire and the Act.

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