POEM FOR A POET PRESENT is a poem, obviously, for a Poet in my life who is Not Present...or maybe it's not that obvious...the one time we met, over Skype, I think we were both unmagicalized...so we never 'saw' eachother again...and so, the Magic goes on...This is a Good Friendship...really!....for true!

POEM FOR A POET PRESENT

real people kiss and smell like onions
garlics and the honey in the honeycake
I'm sure you'd taste all salt and caramel
and corn and heat and dog, sand, rain,
and truly sun and cool of moon the
northwest wind with sea and places way
too far away and snow and washing at a
small sink in the desert with the dry deep
in the air and on your breath. no. really:

it would be like this. separate and sorrowful
without tears at all no expectations lips being
less interesting than words hearts being more words
mere words not feelings - feelings being first
never mind the syntex the context it's all
feeling: unsaid unwanted unsung unmet -
so who the hell cares if you do not yell
for help in your forest and I am not there
we will not hear eachother whisper at all

so laugh then and rest back sleeping on
the pillows and hold the sweet dog and think
upon the ways you've loved what went right of
course what went wrong and why touching
someone so close is not as good as from afar...
what it is to be older not twenty anymore
what bodies are like now how young the young
have become where you can and want and can not
place your hands much less your heart

Close your eyes to the day that had or did not
have meaning the fish, the men, the ladies on their
slow way across the dunes the murmurs of their
souls breathing out like voices the kids laughing -
the dogs bark at eachother all telling some story
or another and your story has been born has a life
of its own it's your heart that's still unborn restless
as a pup in sleep legs going, going, going Gone
and you: dreaming the universe: for Signs of Love: