We Are Glowing

From the journey of a dream
I awoke happy, enveloped in you
under covers

Enraptured in the blankets
of home
with you
of you

Our embrace is
the brightness
of us
with us

We are
the morning together
together in love

An awakening
is here to be
for real
at home

peaceful passion
satisfaction day

not dreaming
but being

in the lightness
of us
with us

we are warm
being the morning sun,
like banners waving
playfully above
the river of Love

extremely rippling,
our streaming
child to the river

Ripples of the day
we stream
like banners waving
playfully above
a gentle brook
child to the stream

The child’s babble
joyful enough
to be a gurgle
in a float-along morning

We splash along
by immersion
and the kiss of the day
better than a dream

The Lip of Music

The romp of love beguiles, a playful horse
my heart a rider gripping spirit’s trip,
a bit of banter falls from saddled lips.
A candor canters, musical in source
a clip-clop hoofing it, my fruit is tossed.
Her lust like cantaloupes so sweetly quipped
yet love’s a cherry deeply red of lip
outspoken rips in bound’ries’ gorgeous loss

I know you love me mole and mountain bluff.
I show my cards, won’t raise to bluff a love.
It’s real this deal of sharing zeal, a bliss.
No gamble oneness riding thought enough
to join two souls, a coup by doves
who fly with coos to play the music’s kiss

Landing Love

Because you teach me in gentle ways
letting me save face in the midst
of my cherished ignorance,
I hope for you to have
everything but sorrow
even if they say
misery teaches. I am
surprised my darkness
has lifted us both
into the sky. Fly in
this plane

with me in comfort, because
you know my puffy eyes
did make those clouds
from tears you dried

Beautiful though clouds can be
from a window seat,
face me in the aisle
where angels will bring
hors d’oeuvres for thought
and plays about play
novel to us
in first class,
with trays of flowers
grown below from
nourished thoughts
an arrangement of
fragrant joys unpacked
before landing

From The Sidelines

I don’t know why
I can’t fly

I had the dreams of the super-hero
because I so much wanted to love everyone
and help, though you are a special case,

but when a fool has no power
or a Hollywood studio
with special effects
at their wreck and call,

there is only the drab
loveless existence in
the fantasy of being alive, and

how could I be alive
if you could never love me
as I am,

as I speak
as if I were deep

and I can not be

while these
silly things

that don’t
let me be, that
don’t let me sing are

because I have
never known how

to speak
what I know
about Love, and

I could be loved
if I could speak
what I know:
a tiny bit of wisdom
that only I feel must be
somehow relevant to the one
who waits for my message, but

I don’t want to be a pawn of the universe

I want to know her now
so that I can speak at last
the secret message

I don’t want to be a puzzle piece.

I want to reach the love that is mine
just because I am me, and

why can’t the Universe
let me love, even if

I’m not a super-hero.


She is so cute
when she loves the cute,
sends me

twelve wild turkeys in the road
on a camera phone

and a mama deer with 3 little spotted babies

and she is so cute
so caring that

I bet she’ll walk between lightning strokes
and dodge the rain for me
as if we could be between the drops

I think when the
sycamore tree fell down,
it was a sign, because

she thought it was cute
when I picked up a twig
and brushed the sky

Where Do Dragons Hunt In Bhutan?

Cold and loneliness
are in the room,
snow outside
with paw prints

All light bulbs unscrewed,
neither love nor
the electric bill
can not be seen
in television’s flicker light

The electric heater is off,
snowflakes lugubrious
paw prints gone

In television’s flicker light
she sees valleys
rice fields, swamp
sees a tiger lunge
watches deer in dense leaves,
seizes a moment to
witness a Himalayan climb
peeks at peaks;
all these
she has seen
on TV

Now she wants
an automated
rice cooker

With a better job
beyond Thimpu,
perhaps she
can get this and more —
see a movie about dragons who
watch soap operas and speak Hindi

meditates upon
sad weekends
awaiting inspiration

Walking in the snow
she goes to work
to work on herself

The snow is melting
and she is

Without a light bulb
or a rice cooker
she will return
when the snow falls
in Thimpu again
to dance
in the snow
with a lover

Could It Be You Love Me

I don’t know why you would
follow me out onto the tight rope.

You scare me
more than me
with questions of sacrifice

What will I do
if you fall

I have the balance bar. I will lead you back
after the catch of us, and I
will give you your own balance beam.

Next time catch me, or
on windy days we
can take the rope bridge.

The other side can wait for crossing.
Today there is a picnic.

But before we eat,
I have prayers
and questions

about Love
about Balance

But maybe not today.
The day is
too warm, and you
too precious for philosophy

eat please
and fall in Love

today there is
a picnic and a kiss.

Caveman On Red Deer

On forest’s edge
my spear seems not steady
stone’s throw away
from missing red deer
gone with cattle, fenced
by plank woods, tame

Still frozen out
on edge
I’ve lost my
beyond the Ice Age

She, a city woman is
like a red deer, but
she will not stray
stays deep in the jungle; it’s

hard to ambush her heart
when I am edgy
my spear heavy

she will not touch
the edge of my brow
the forest of my desire
I meet her for coffee
at the Antelope Hotel
mind my manners —
small spoon on cantaloupe

Her roundness has
astounded me, a
glorious ballet dances her
to our table
ecstasy tableau

The mâitre d’ hôtel
knows her kindness
smiles at us, serves
mixed pleasures
without a raised eyebrow —
he is a fine shaman
uncorks champagne
and venison.

Gorgeous is the evening
when she speaks to me
as hunter of love
knows my appetite profoundly

She strokes
the hair of my back
of my buttocks,
raises me right
with sheep skin
on my rod
to save my genes
for a future
cherished child
when glory would be our name,
dancers of wealth
secretly sharing
with every child who cries
as have we

Never have I seen
such a feast

She is a smile, and
I am a sigh,
my hug accepted.

I am we,
we sing

Ring me forever

Cook Book

I had been trying to be a shooting star
in some quadrant of the sky where she’d
been dreaming of me I hope, and then
she found me in my favorite coffee shop, and
I knocked over my coffee cup, but
she smiled when I touched her hand, and
I watched her finish a morsel of food
as if it were me and she said don’t worry.

I bought a cook book
and invited her over
And I loved when I made her apple pie
even though I prefer cherry and peach
just because she noticed my cinnamon

and she wanted to teach me
how to bake love

so I so much wanted
her to be the chef
if we could cook together.

But I didn’t mind, because
we were both taking off our hats
and stirring thoroughly naked in the sauce


I was drawing with chalk on the sidewalk unappreciated
thought I saw you peeking behind the corner,
but a sudden rain washed all away,
too many falling sky erasers lately.

When the Sun comes out,
hide where I can find you
in secret sand-castle places
under my blanketed regrets,
surfing for your love
in seaweed long ago washed —
salty youth.

Give yourself away with a giggle, but
wear an adult smile

Draw me, and
dance where I can see you.

Never too many peek-a-boo days
for sunny buffing stuff,
birthday suited or not.