A collection of my poems, both old and new.
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"Meditations on the Art of Distance, No. 5"
You and I,
we write each poem like it's the last;
the first;
the only –
like we have never loved before
and shall never love beyond;
like we have each had the other's name
emblazoned on our fetal hearts
since we once bore the wetness of the womb.
Perhaps it's true –
Perhaps it's true...
Even so, let us celebrate past loves
and name them each by name
for they have crafted us
into this exquisite species
and shaped us for each other
like the river carves the rock.
Is there not joy in knowing
that we have learnt their lessons well?
[first published in New Bard Press, Drive, 2004]
˗ˏˋ・。☆.・゜✭・. AUTHOR'S NOTES ✫・゜・。.・。. ✭
As I publish this old gem from long ago, my wife and I are apart again. She flew out yesterday to help her father recover from surgery. "Why does it feel so much worse to be away from each other now that we're older?" she texts me from Vancouver. "Because we're deeper in love," I respond. A pause... "Lol," she writes. "There's a poem for you ;)"
