Poems (not mine)


You Can’t Have It All
Failing and Falling
Love After Love
Inner Predatory
I Love You Sweetheart
If You Forget Me
The Look
What Do Women Want?
The Song of Wandering Aengus

Say organs and it’s unclear
whether you mean the instruments
that make the fugue of the body
or the ones looming in cathedrals.

Say plain and the adjective
describes the landscape,
the topography unremarkable,
the land guileless and broad.

Say left and I would turn,
maybe to change direction
or maybe to see who had gone.

But say love, and sometimes
you could mean the way
a dim room brightens
at midday, when the sun
comes from behind a cloud,
and you are still in bed.
You could mean crying.
You could mean candles burned
to their ends. You could mean
the cardinal the cat left
on your stoop, still intact,
one red wing crossed
over his chest, eyes darkened.