Three Love Poems And A Work Of Despair

I have never known any other longing

I have never known
any other longing than to look
at your face ever
dis-
.................appearing among crowds
whose faces, when I start to search,
start to resemble yours,
only that they look back at me
while you don’t-you, the ever-
fleeing, the ever-escaping-my-eyes,
the ever-increasing-my-longing,
when will I ever know you?


as when i was before like this( that is

as when i was before like this( that is
when i was unlike how i am now
)i ask myself am i
not a wonderer( am i? )who am
supposed to wonder and ask why
ask why ,askwhy, why there is no wonder----
there is no more wonder----there is no more
wonder........... in the wonder
...........................................of your eyes.


letuscome and take a ride

letuscome and take a ride
and in the jeep allow me : i will
put my arms around your shoulder (putmyarms
....................around your shoulder )and i’ll
stroke your hair ,and i will play
run my fingers through your hair
and i will whisper in your ear( letmewhisper
..................................in your ear
..............................................whilethejeepisrunningwheezing,
..................................whilethewindiswheezingbreezing
)i’ll shushingly whisper in your ear ,and i will listen

to the wind

carry whispers from your hair,
whisper silence to my face.


Grief

i.

I will remember everything of it: how my hands were wanting to clutch yours----you, allowing me to now, then moving them suddenly, but how subtly, away; how, when we took the jeep, my shoulders felt the weight of your head as the breeze blew and brushed strands of your hair to my face; how my arms were wanting to feel how is it embracing you.

I was always ever searching your eyes for signs, but there came none.

ii.

Feelings, I told you once or several times, come without being invited. Or they will not without announcement. I understand my words more now, as I still am trying my best at understanding what you meant then by saying "a reason for everything".

You had your reason for saying it, I’m certain.

iii.

I will remember everything of it.

When you told me it----it that I anticipated would cause me grief----I was waiting for the feeling to hit me, permeate me, consume me. But there was none. Why do they come too slowly for me? Why don’t they come earlier so I may sooner get over and forget them? The only answer there was for me was silence; and I know, when silence answers, there is weight.

iv.

But we have no memory for feelings.

I know that someday, I will recall all of these things, when I will, in a different way. And I will wait and search and want for the feelings again.

I will remember everything of this. But when the time comes that this will have all passed (if it ever will), the feeling will be gone, and I should feel better, and I should be glad, because the pain----the pain that I am waiting for now to come----shall have left me, too, by then. But it will cause me grief again. For even if I want the pain to pass, to dissipate, I will always----always----want the feeling again.