my bed has been filling up

this morning i added
a radio to the
computer, files, letters, notebook,
pens, not to mention
the books -
a novel, poetry, dictionary, erotica -
bookmarks float about
surprising me under the covers

my old self lingers
some nights I hold her
we think the bed is not so empty
nevertheless, she fades
folds into me
I know I will not miss her

gentle presence

the sun is bright
it hangs over the roof tops
slants in through the window
plays on my fingers

gentle presence, it dances
with the music all right

i've been foolish

what is that there
in my middle

where my spirit rests

it is time
to risk the return

no assumptions

not touching you those days
are hard memories to bear
I was, what, saving it for later
like the stationery given to me when I was 12
that I'm still saving for that perfect
inspiration

at first i thought it was another lesson
in things having broken,

my underwear, all of it, had developed
inconvenient holes

then i realized it was likely
a lesson in renewal

but when the 'n' fell off my
typewriter's print wheel last night

i could not figure this
part of it

weekend in water

I smelled like my bubble bath
as I sat at the reading
tired from the laps that I had swum
I dozed in the words

"that was great"

morning
swimming again
floating
underneath the roof window
nothing to see but gray
clouds getting ready to rain

sometimes

after a freeze
it takes
a conflagration
to begin the thaw

nothing

but new beginnings
from here on out