Work in Progress

I will take your hand, my love,
in front of all our kin.
I will walk to you, my love,
white silk upon my skin.
I will give to you, my love,
my soul, my tender heart.
Intertwined with you, my love,
a shining, bright new start.

And when we stand in front, my love,
the rabbi will read there
The words I write to you, my love,
tell all my sincere prayer.
What words that he will say, my love,
I really just don’t know.
This work in progress still, my love,
the poem just won’t flow.

What do I love about you so?
You love me, whether words or no.


Before you, he said
with a wry grin and wide
honest but still playful eyes
I was in a monastery.
I was a monk, cloistered
from the world, and
no woman captured my heart
or stole my smile
or lay grinning, naked with me
or held me, before you.
I was in a monastery, he joked.
And of course, so was I.
But the pictures and the scars
from our imagined other lives
we lived, before meeting,
tell a different story.
The people we still love and
the baggage we still carry is
sometimes, too honest.
Let’s keep it simple.
Let’s keep it sweet.
Before you, it was a monastery
because before you, I was caged
and you have set my heart free.

Sweet Heart

It’s the sweet heart

the gooey center of you

that we all miss so much.

It’s how you turn our pain

into soft cotton candy, pink

and insubstantial, with just

a laugh, that glorious laugh,

with your kind smile

and generous hug.

We all miss you, our dear,

because there is no one

who brings us all such joy

like you, being you.


Before You

Before you, I thought
the universe sent me
only the hard ones
men broken, needing healing
men scarred, needing hope.

Before you, I thought
love meant fighting and
sometimes bursting
into angry or heartbroken tears
into a thousand pieces of myself.

Before you, I thought
I didn’t deserve this happy
carefree love I’d heard about
seen so little in life
seen so devalued in society.

Before you, I thought
I knew exactly what and who
I searched for, longed for,
needed to join me on my quest
needed to heal my heart.

After you, I think
the hard ones can take care of themselves, and
love doesn’t mean melodrama, and
I deserve breezy happiness too, and
I had no idea what I really needed

Was you.


Wishing for something,
there’s no guarantee,
who will appear
to help set me free.
The wishing is tiring
and all I want to be
is with you, sitting there
on the bench next to me.
One miracle manifest
made flesh and blood.
My inner dream come true
heart burst in a flood.
A musician, a thinker,
a father, a friend.
Manifest and then vanished
woke up at dream’s end.
So where do I go
after dreaming, to be
held in some new arms.
I don’t know. Is that me?
Can I overcome
my heart’s longing and see
that I have a chance
to still dance merrily?