I take a turn
around the Charles
into a lake of shadow.

I used to take that turn
in the middle of a seven mile run
I took every other night, years ago.

I was not a fast runner,
and the turn grew darker
as my heavy feet drew closer.

I now envisage
the turn as a
launch into the unknown.
 

That’s how dark it was at three a.m.

This is the turn which has grown with me, become part of me.
I take that turn every day now,
venturing into the dark of the unknowns of cancer.

I have become the turn.
 

This is the turn

That has grown with me,

Become part of me.

I take that turn every day now,

Venturing into the dark of the unknowns

Of cancer.

I have become the turn.

Tin the loose grip of his father’s,
off to the park
to play catch.

The trust
of the trees,
believing in April’s
green promises.

The faithfulness
of the moon,
undressing
quietly behind a cloud.

The joy of the butterfly,
it’s life a celebration
of silent beauty.

This is Amy,
bringing me the peace of
of a sleepy ocean
with nothing
but her smile.

There’s no desire in Heaven,
no wind,
no rivers that run
out loneliness;

there’s nothing hanging
just out of reach,
like trying to save
a falling leaf.

And, when to that dateless night I go,
my love will bathe the world,
quiet as clouds releasing snow.

One moment

dies into the next,

and the next moment

is always smaller.

an inch

graduates to a foot,

quiet as shadows merging in a crowd.

The alligator’s roll

and I’m in it’s jaws;

the water is deep

and he’s not tiring.

This is the deep,

This is the place

where doors

move away

and the sun slams

into the horizon

with a metallic boom.

This is the deep.

Languor becomes

a nervous thing,

a fly on a windowpane.

These are the depths

where there’s nothing to be seen

in the clouds anymore.

These are the depths.

The waters are deep

and I’m in the teeth

of The gator’s spin.

The deep

lives and breathes

in the shadow of love,

where the wind blows cold

until the stillness finally freezes over.