A Letter For Shut Eyes and Closed Ears

 Dear the lady who got away,

It might not be meant to be, but I'll always love you
I have neither hopes nor fantasies, already I got to love you
I look back and I don't cringe, I don't lie or regret to love you
I'm not asking, I'm not begging, I'm not demanding, for I love you
I gained you and lost you, but since I gained you, eternally I love you
We've split paths, destiny is too clear, but it won't stop me if I love you
And I do. I do like dew on your soil, resting gently all around you-- I love you
I will love others with passion and devotion, but still I'll love you
For somewhere inside, where my heart preserves the memories, I simply love you

With love of course,
the man who got away

I Remember

 I remember 

Like a separation of 2,000 years 

I come to the wall where we wail 

And I too make use of the distance

As a metaphor for what is so close

But is now but a memory 

But say, do you remember? 

Do you remember the other side?

The fire we always kept running?

The aroma of love and arousing appetite?

The moments of holy privacy 

For those very special occasions 

I know it’s not your philosophy 

But for me, to fall in love with a memory

Can cause love in real time 

You don’t have to believe me 

But I know it’s real 

And I remember 

And I remember held hands 

Embraced shoulders 

Touching souls 

Locked eyes

The darkness of the backdrop

The light of your face 

The hope within our hearts 

Do you remember? 

On Losing Her

 On Losing Her (for my son, I love you already)

Losing you was like running out of air 

Though I’ve never really panted for dear life

Sometimes at the most random times 

I’m overtaken by the demons of my anxiety

And they, like spikes in my brain, 

Penetrate into my foundations 

And at the core they find you

You, who might have been

and you who will not be. 

Do you think it’s particularly fair?

We can reveal those little secrets

And entrust another with our hearts 

like Meleager whose life depended on carefulness 

which a heart-holder must have. 

But for it all, it turns out for naught

Why did I not beg of you at first glance: 

“Be careful with my heart, my love!”

That which beats within is much more 

precious than we will ever be able 

to imagine. 

So watch over your heart, son. 

Make sure that the one who holds it

Knows how to protect it and won’t burn it 

Like Meleager destined for waste

Tell her to keep it warm as “mama’s oven” 

Make sure you are in good hands, my son. 

For if you took she that I loved into your hands,

You would be left with no choice

but to teach your son the same. 

Why Did You Let Me Get Away?

Why did you let me get away?

As a soldier to his creed was I

Serving you loyally in our love

Perhaps I had doubts and fears 

Yet never did I ponder a sad life

A life wherein you are missed 

Now forced upon me I understand 

That time only stretches frustrations

From the scene of the crime 

Up until justice miraculously is served

Did I not plead by olive branch

To reconcile our positions 

So that we would walk the same path?

Did the right move truly evade? 

Were your intentions pure in love?

For why not did you beg of me 

‘Stay, my beloved! Let us bend

One to the other and reverse 

So that what we have will not fly away’?

Rather, and as per your direction

To never allow your arms separation

From those that crave their hold

I took flight confused among clouds

That I mistook for a heaven 

In search of my dearest one 

My love that was and would be

Within your trembling heart 

But likely you were unsure 

And still by secret to yourself 

You still are. 

And so on and so forth and

What have I?

A question that breaks through the waves

That shatters the paradigm 

it breaks the sonic barrier 

an excitation at its peak 

Well?

Why did you let me get away??

Massages in the Midbar

(For Aliza)

From the fields I await your arrival 
The burning heat cools in the evening breeze 
and I know you are getting near.

Each crawling thing of the desert plain scurries so to find shelter with family 
Having sworn within not to consider 
returning to my tent without you, 
my impatience supplements in prayer, whispering words that come so automatically other than
When I see your name in the letters. (There I stop. I contemplate the happiness bestowed upon you)
Your expression flashes long and clear in my head 
Deserving brown eyes (with something extra, maybe a sparkle)
that create a world I’d much prefer to live in over the current paradigm. 
And as the last little bit of humiliated purple sunlight tucks below the mountains of crimson boulders, you are there. 
Your hair blends in with the incoming night 
its warmth rests on my shoulders and my arms fall forward 
I am kindling the fire, the spices are infusing 
The oils are anointing and the water flows
cleaning the harshness from the body
Your burden is laid down by the fire as the hands of your lover comfort the shoulders that hold so much
For every hinderance I wish with smooth fingers you will be free
For every frustration I hope with alacrity you will come in search of me
And flatter my soul with the idea that it can even come a little close to touching yours.

One Email

I realized that I could really feel the kindness in her heart when I ceased to think of her as merely a past object of interest

Did you ever answer?

I did answer

What did you say?

"Hi Sam, I really really appreciate that. I care about you too:)

"השג את Outlook עבור iOS

 An Ode To Kelsey Swanson (Miss Rhode Island 2017, the YouTube rabbit hole is relentless) 

You’ve just got that beauty I can trust 

If I reach into the dark, your hand won’t be far

Your eyes invite me to fall down the bottomless pit

But the reality grounds me 

You are a person out there but to me, but an image, 

And you remind me of the trust and love I will find

Sad By Habit

 Sad By Habit (while I contemplated the addiction to sadness. It is like sadness at a lack of sadness— like we actually like it) 

And there it was in all its glory 

Shiny bits of ore hiding in the dirt 

The burlapped men set to work 

yet its molding left them empty 

The want of metal created desire 

Passion took its position— center field 

so that the flames weren’t for craft 

but for the exploit, for the triumph! so they thought 

Boys who wandered, wondered westward  

turned to men in sordid search of survival 

and once found formed dissatisfaction 

at the satisfaction of just survival  

For though they searched for that,

The minimum of existence which suffices 

I dare say for my own lowly self, 

It was the accomplishment that brought more sadness 

greed inherited from the old world, perhaps 

But though I content myself with survival

at times,

I too dream of loftier places— more happiness 

for like those frontiersmen I follow insatiable thirsts in my own way 

but do forget me— no adventurer am I! 

But they! They sat down and craved more than happiness. Rare pieces of earth.

A currency of happiness that represented far more than anything intrinsic— 

That was their way of eliminating the sadness of the minimum, man’s (a) fuel.  

What they didn’t see was the cycle. The feeling they ran on —the food of discontent— It being their internal drive to try to end it, which only repeats in the unrecognizable  

For after they found that rich, dark 

yellow-shine, they stumbled upon something unknowingly, becoming 

sad by habit.