Poems from BENEATH THE FORTY-SEVENTH STAR

When the bough of reason breaks,
we will wake again
in the shadow of Kokopelli.

*

I was not wise – I was in love;
in the foyers of the canyons
I gave my heart to know wisdom
and folly.

*

Like a warrior of light you burned
rich, wild,
loud, imperfect –
and I hid my poems in socks and cellars
for the day that you no longer blazed.

*

Four years ago you came home
smelling of the desert, sand in your shoes,
and a beaded belt for me
who called you even then Beloved.

Until our dreams sleep six feet under,
I will gird my waist with sun and sky.

*

We are guided by love, you said,
by love and death –
one day we will walk the paths
where our ghosts once walked.

*

We quit cathedrals and canals
for cities that call themselves holy
and now you sleep with your arms around me
in a motel off the Triple Six.

Halfway to God's country
we've stained the sheets with love and war,
and no dream will ever be enough again.

*

I have known more men than Mary of Magdala
but still I call you alpha and omega,
my beginning and my end.

*

You brushed out my hair
and those locks of auburn and sable
tumbled into your open hands.

In twenty years' time you will hold
iron and silver in your palm.