Will it be possible
for desire to change into something deeper
something sustainable over a lifetime?
for the electric current of skin on skin
to become a lasting current of the deep heart?
for the passion of eyes
to become the passion of action
renewed repeatedly in listening
in simple presence that can hold another’s pain?
for the language of love to be more than words
or more than compassion or more than skin against skin
but a lifelong gift?

I know it can because it has.
Although that gift and that love are muted
by distance both temporal and physical
still her name brings it back.
So will yours. Differently because you are different
better because the passion was deeper if shorter lived.

Will is a odd word
so many meanings; one- a legacy, the things left me
(all of which I would trade for another day
with the one of whose will I am beneficiary)
or two- will is an act of mind, or three- a question.
Questions always, why life is as it is only clear retrospectively.

‘Will it’, removed from being a question,
becomes my will, my necessity for this;
the act of mind to create some space
where my heart is still connected with yours, in a new form,
in a way that frees you rather than binds you
that enables you to find your life’s dreams
freed from the limitations, however wonderful
(and they were) of passion, the legacy of moments never to be lost, of desire,
into something for which I have yet no name. An inheritance of your smile
the memory of your touch recalled with warmth and not pain.
But I will (have that name) if only that it is your name.
I will. You must help me discover it if you so will. Will you?

you say
my desire for you is pretty constant
my heart leaps

you say
with you I know I will climax
my cock moves

you say
you arrive and turn me on
my skin tingles

a year ago
I wouldn’t have placed any of those
in my body

now
emotions are all good and lovely
but knowing where they start
has made all the difference

now
all the sensations for which there are no words
pass between us deeply, fully
leaving in their wake joy

Your head is snuggled
into my shoulder
your hair across my chest
and some in my face
your arm across also
and I smile into your hair
this is the second night
in a row you have been
in my bed
it doesn’t happen often
schedules, obligations
your husband, school
and this is such a luxury
I know it won’t happen again
for some time
you are falling asleep against me
your warmth and deep breathing
and I realize
that I am safe
safe for you
safe to give myself away
safe to let my heart out
I haven’t been safe
for a long time
you gave me this gift tonight
of knowing my safety
and I can carry that gift
to other beds
and in other’s arms
and I know, as I smile into your hair
that you are not only
good with that
but will delight in it
with me
the next time your head
snuggles to my shoulder
and I stroke your hair
and you come into the safety
of my arms
and we whisper together
stories and dreams
safe together again

I get up to make coffee
you are still in my bed

We were kids
I, at least,
running scared from what
your presence raised in me
fear of what love really is

that fear died this past year
along with so much else
some I pruned,
some was taken from me
or so I thought

but fear is better dead

now your presence
your generosity
your kindness
and your clarity
to call me on my backtracking

and all that has happened
apart and together
lets me rest
knowing I will never
have to be apart again

Every time I see you
it’s been after a long absence
and I just have to look at you
over and over to realize
you’re here, to feel your presence
land in my body

This time last year
I was lost in pain
anger
resentment
fear
scarcity
the new year is
as opposite as seems possible
from that past

I love you
for that gift
but that’s only one thing
I love you for

you are close and warm
against me
moving slightly in your sleep.
coyotes are howling nearby
outside the old house
full of history
the many lives who began
and ended there
or simply passed through
for a season
their presence is peaceful
the night still and silent
except for the cries
of the coyotes.
sound carries a long way here.
I lie awake wondering
do the coyotes hear
your cries of passion?

My feet haven’t been warm
for a few days
while every moment
my heart threatens to
outgrow my chest

My hands are a little
chapped and cracked
from dryness
while my eyes
water from joy

My ears hurt some
from the cold
and yet the same ears
hear and heard
your pleasure

Nothing in my body
had prepared my heart
for what comes to me
from your feet and hands
and ears and touch

we spoke on the phone
as I lay in bed
missing you
and I asked if you
had fallen asleep with someone
on the phone
I wanted in that moment
to just have the phone
there with you
on the other end
as I drifted into sleep
almost as when you are
lying beside me
your hand in mine

after we talked I listened to Strauss
Beim Schlafengehen
unearthily beautiful and sad
and did fall asleep
and woke in the night
startled
that you weren’t there

I see you in three days
it’s too long
meanwhile I have
Kiri Te Kanawa
she can’t hold a candle
to your longing

after the party last night
we sat on your couch
and you leaned back into me
my arms around you
yours reaching back stroking my hair
I will be away for a few days
and not see you again for a week
and I was already longing for you
and you said, I will miss you also
and my heart got so big
I thought it might burst
and your hand resting gently on my leg
the kiss you gave my palm
your body leaning against mine
all said the same

my inside and outside
don’t always align
I seem some days to say things
that I know I don’t mean exactly
even as I say them
and the greatest gift you give me
is letting me re-align my thought
so that it does, as best words can,
reflect my inner state

in the times I am absent from you
I long for this alignment
inner and outer
touch and thought
heart and mind
heart and fingertips
breath and blankets
silence and darkness and the warmth
of your leg over mine
your heat pressed to my thigh

You take a photo
of me using
woodworking tools
to take old polish
off your toenails

You can’t reach them
for the splint
my heart is so full
that you let me be
so intimate

helping you shower
rewrapping your splint
bringing you supper in bed
I don’t need lovemaking
when I have this

I know how it isn’t easy
for you to let me
take care of you
support you
enfold you

I take you to work;
at home, folding your clothes
to put in your space
in my closet
my eyes spill over

you said last night
a pillow away
that you love seeing
how every week
people give me things

how they, and you,
all see that I am
better than I feel
I text you
that I’m a silly old man

and go back to putting away
the parts of you
that you leave with me
to be cared for
and cherished