you know, don’t you, how this feels
this madness of love so us entwining
wildly, i tell you with utter conviction

mad as a slyly grinning harried hatter
nattering of Christmas and of Carol
and slightly demented stuttering fellows

mad as a creamy moon fully draining
straining shyly behind a cloudless sky
muttering an endless succession of why

deranged as a stream driving backward
striving never to empty into the sea
deciding rather to scale Kilimanjaro

shrewd as a Tuesday that blinks on and off
from the setting sun to the farthest dawn
knowing absolutely that it is really a Friday

delirious as demons dancing delighted
in flights of fancy and prancing donkeys
dressed in the finest chiffon and tiaras

madness, i tell you with utter conviction
depicts the barest minimum this heart
is capable of so long as you are willing

to share this delusion
this delicious illusion
this blessed lunacy
forever with me

Salt Lake City 01 Dec 2012

Love, They Say

love some might say is like a
promise destined to be fulfilled
or failed and in so doing thus
demean he who loves with such
crass indignation and base guile

others may seek to define love
in the most selfless and pretty
way as an act of piety or even
altruism depicting fowl flying
forth only to return if love be true

how eagerly we mask our fears
trading needful for thoughtful
shrouding seduction in sighs
of saintly adoration and moans
of loftiest blissful beatification

no, love is like a ravenous child
at once mischievous and wild
undisciplined, free-spirited and
always, always wanting more
and can you truly blame him?

love is graceful, hopeful, and fine
but it is also hungry, grasping
a craven conqueror filling his
broad coffers with precious loot
from untold trampled nations

that growling in your tightened
trembling loins, your legs crossed
in warm anticipation, which you,
nervous of being seen as you are,
dismiss as lust – that too is love

love cares not for sweet timidity
which is at best a rougèd ruse to fool
the masses by painting a portrait
of carefully manicured modesty.
predacious love prefers to pounce

so spin your tales as you may wish
of lilies and tender longing looks
of poets pining for one brief glance
of the shadow of the beloved unseen
cast across a wall of antique stone

but as for me, this verse be done
that i may flee the constraints of
this shimmering veil of unreasonable
reason and embrace the man i am
for i do choose the lunacy of love

Salt Lake City 18 May 2012

Biking in Fukuoka, Japan (April 1994)