The last days of summer (my dreams from this room)

                          Mileticova       Bratislava     Summer     2018

Evenings with the sound of buzzing mosquitos and memories flowing through my mind. Cool mornings awakening to the blue light and birdsong of the dawn chorus. A distant church bell and the voices of children clattering against each other like bright colours splashed across a grey wall. Trying in vain to hold on to the fading edges of a dream that briefly became a reality and that will one day sink into the deep ocean of subconscious. To be fully aware of the infinite pleasure and great cost of a single kiss. To watch shadows grow longer until they eventually expire as the magic hour draws to its conclusion. To love with my eyes and heart your clouds and trees, your old staircases and narrow streets and the light as it catches in the long grass that dances in the breeze. To walk slowly and talk quietly and spend these moments collecting memories, brief snatches of time that fill me with joy. To be awakened from the slumber and numbness of loss with the feeling that I can continue this journey knowing that it is possible to learn as much from failure as it is from success and to know the similarities as well as the differences.

Thank you Bratislava for these years of learning and growing.

Journeys

From here to there -
fifteen years gone

To watch the suns faded glow reflected on the ocean
and sift the sand in search of a pearl
to let regret dissolve
and be released from the chains of unfulfilled memories
to throw the shreds of negativity into the air
and watch it all wash away with the tide

life in the palm of your hand

A poem to the heart of the one who gets tired too early
tenderness craves one more kiss before it learns to regret
all of the time we can fit through the eye of a needle
measured out lines that we draw up and let out the door
offering kindness as if it were your last day
suffering will free you enough to suffer some more
sitting here early not wanting to miss the transport
take me away to the place I used to call home
back to a memory 
something that no longer exists.

The weaker hand holds the truth.

We followed the silver lake out beyond the edge of town, 

I tried to teach my tongue to talk of the sacred heart, and of a bitterness that hopefully dissolves over time.