love poem


You are my something

You claim nothing

You inhabit no space

In my psyche 

That is how universal 

You are. You areĀ 

The very thread 

Everything is made of,

 I cannot 

Hear you, like old 

Lovers, I cannot

Feel your absence

I feel your presence 

Always, amplifying

My reality.

Back stage romance

I know they think

Less of me because

I am not seen with you

A single woman

A single human

A strange thing

A heavy thing

A pack animal


A flat plain

An empty pan

A loose string.

And so alone we go

And it goes on and on

Like Herbie Hancock

Playing to himself,

Cooking music on his stove

Avoiding all the expected notes.