Sustenance

I will grow a herb garden

at my home.

A garden that decorates and enhances more

than the vista.

One that provides sustenance and flavor

to food and soul.

Replete with spice and herbs which waft aromatic

Mediterranean and exotic eastern scents

through the still, warm air

on summer evenings;

so that Shanghai, the Adriatic, Morocco

and dreams of Tuscany

are never far away.

This is the garden on which I will focus,

and through its careful tending

hope to attract back some of that which has been lost -

Produce to enliven hearty soups and stews in winter and

add zest to the salads and grills of summer;

consumed with gusto by

those I love be they family or friend or ...

I will strive to provide for all and nurture all

by sustaining this garden.

I will know this garden’s needs

and in knowing will understand

the needs of others

and confess to them

my needs in return.

The dog and I only, know what bones lie

Beneath this fertile soil.

Bones not for entombment but to be preserved

and claimed when the time is right.

Spirits of garden and field

roam with Sabina amongst,

Rosemary, Oregano and Basil.

Marjoram and Fennel exude mists of olfactory intoxication,

and I inhale – momentarily entranced,

but never sated.

For passion which has died cannot be resuscitated

by herb or spice or tired effort,

and this alone can never again

be enough.

2001

Rain

From the southern sky
Boulevards awash with tears
Cleaned by constant rain

Distance

First turn of the wheel
A road surrenders distance

Dream an undreamed dream

Offshore

Waves over the reef
Beyond the churning cauldron
Salt spray stings my face

Coffee

Goodbye to last night
On her early morning lips

The taste of coffee

Scattered

All my thoughts are scattered
Not that it really matters
Been so focused
Time stood still
Eyes on the prize
Hypnotized

All my seed is scattered
As if it ever mattered
Til the ground
Reap what is sown
A lilting tune
A harvest moon

Surrender to the warm wind
Surrender to the moment
Scattered

Olfactory Influences

Coco Chanel

Sometimes, alone in the deep of night

awakened by a presence in my heart;

seek as I might to reclaim the caress of sleep

memories, perhaps best forgotten

hold me in their keep...

I recall:

the touch of your eyes when first we had met;

the feel of a room you were in.

Frank Sinatra foretelling our lives, and

the Coco Chanel on your skin.

I remember:

honey-soft words you murmured to me;

the brush of soft skin on my thighs;

the taste of your sweetness; the touch of your hand;

the passion expressed by our cries.

There were:

gentle conversations filled with laughter and hope

as cigarettes glowed in the dark,

and hot afternoons, 'neath late Summer Sun

on a bench, by a tree in the park.

The Moon is a memory of sunlight,

the Autumn a memory of Spring,

and my lingering memory of a love that once lived -

The scent of Coco Chanel on your skin.

1988

Philosophocakes - Another small, sweet helping

Incessant As A Shrew

As faint as the sound of moonlight;

as soft as a snowflake's fall;

as painful as a heartbreak;

as incessant as a shrew -

We run in bewildered confusion,

never facing our adversary,

and hide in an abyss of reason from

the questions, the source and the key.

Dreams

Each day I see dreams

coated in a facade of concrete and glass;

rooted to the earth, their foundations in

the minds of men.

I dream -

dreams coated in the lofty facade of imagination

and rendered with love and belief,

ever hardening into the concrete and glass

of reality.

Circa Early 1980’s