This may be as good as it gets, love.
Don’t wait for things to change, for us to be in the black,
to live on Easy Street instead of California Avenue,
magnolias instead of lilacs,
for a house with yellow sun instead of smothering gray
for tomatoes ripe in June instead of late August green,
for the perfect word, body, C Major scale, or shade of red.
This may be as good as it gets, love, this lilac
passion that reeks of Chopin and excess, of red
velvet stage curtains swept open for Ella, of pearl gray
flutes and ruddy ‘cellos, of the orchestra hum before, love,
and after the music, when you, before me in black,
glowed with music in your hair,
glowed with music in your eyes sea-green.
This may be as good as it gets, love, and who needs more comfort than gray
that closes us in, that damps the windows to luminous green
and we hold one another in the thunder and the blanket, love,
slides to the floor. In this light you are lilac
long lines, and lean, and I am wild and red,
full of circles and curls in the amazing flash before black.
This may be as good as it gets, love, this white page with black
letters, this poem, this ode to winter gray
and of colors, of “Victorian” red
stroked on walls in February while dreaming green
with you beside me like a fallen Greek column, a lilac
god who sets me free. Love,
This may be as good as it gets.
Say it is enough, this short green
summer, this black winter, this wild red fall,
this lilac spring, to be with me.
Say it is enough, love.
YOUTUBE LINK for A POET’S LULLABYE:
YOUTUBE LINK for poem FLOWER GIRL:
YOUTUBE LINK for poem THESE TREES:
YOUTUBE LINK for poem GARDEN:
We’ll sail away
on a satin sea,
my lover and me.
I’ll play the harp,
and he, the flute, from the branch of a magic tree.
A sea-shell ship,
full wind and weather fair
on we’ll glide, on the moon’s bright side,
and the wind will comb our hair.
Barn as witness
in a silver dress
softened by winters.
Barn listing East
Barn as linguist
translator for work horse,
dairy cow, barn cat, mouse.