You didn’t look at the moon

Or the stars on a cloudless night,

How could you not

Stoop to one knee for the prose

Of the moon

And her bonnet of stars?

They scrambled

Arranged themselves neatly

Just for you,

For your eyes

To tilt and offer them


You offered them nothing.

You would even try.




Maybe I’m not what you envisioned
Maybe I’m soft in places
You thought would be hard
My shoulders may be weak
But like Sisyphus
I will try
My eyes may strain
But they can see through
This envisioned life
My heart is in the right place
But no one else showed
A different time zone
And you are no longer
A vision
No longer envisioning
Our life together
Maybe I’m just too soft
As you utter “stalemate.”

To Sleep, To Dream.

Sleep is the levee,
Darkest embankment

A love as cumbersome and divine.

But love is no word for slumber,

To sleep is to dream of waking,
Walking in on another’s life.

Sleep is the anchor,
The roof concave.

To sleep and dream,
To see the very eyes of love
Only to blink.
And wake.

But love is no word for slumber,
The barefoot step.

Love is what sleep will dream
When it rests its weary head.