waking up with no memory

It is the entanglements after. If there are any.
Most of the time, it is best

when both know it is nothing else. But that
spur of the moment--

muscles, adrenaline, the quickening of beats
towards cosmic release

before returning to the exhaustion of bodies 
and what is it that has always been there: our

own tired places in a slow and spinning world. 
It has been a long, long time

since.
Never quite losing sobriety facing passion.

Always steady to take the long drives 
and decide at least three steps ahead, as though

still playing chess with whoever it is across.
On better days,

I think myself in transit on a lucid boat
crossing an ocean called Weather&Time.

There has got to be a return or an arrival
somehow, although at the moment

my thoughts are only as simple 
as has she thought of me today.

Some days there is the heat

undeniable, seeping its way
into skin and deeper still
through the eyes to be 

itself: a drum throbbing 
in the middle of temples
and behind brows

making everything else too
bright, too humid, too
loud--the temper too short.

Some nights there is the heat
undeniable, seeping its way
past reason and deeper still

into body that throbs into
becoming an animal heaving
groping, finding a latch

in the darkness for release.

life as lived

Posted a photo of the wild ones in the water--the loved dogs
in their eternal summer. The photo is all 
bright and light and shore and water
and too easy laughter,
it does not tell all.

the gaze

all points in the room point at
the one thing
partially acknowledged and therefore 
there at the corner of my eye

the long drive from Saavedra

And it comes to me again.

Even not yet absolute, 
the one remaining 
year in this country. 

From Germany, J sends
congratulations saying
his own return after

Denmark and torn Israel. 
Till we meet again, I say
motioning the years 

near a decade or so. Or
so. G is now rarely
mentioned, left

(after retirement) several
pages back. In Spain. 
In other points elsewhere.

The marching continues
off from coast to coast.
In middle, Raymund

takes his off-road motor
to return to his kids--
a last save before

they are all grown.
G had always said
about the passing

of grace, nothing 
permanent except what
the moment has. 

And it comes to me again.

Even not yet absolute, 
the one remaining 
year in this country. 

During the not-long-enough

drive from Saavedra

to her warmth.

And it comes to me again. 

Nights 

we hold as long as we can.

water people

Our psyche calls for water
to float on to submerge in
a way of losing ourselves
into a language of cosmos
where no thinking is
only being...
That we find ourselves
letting go into a one-ness
with universe where all
simply is
We come again and again
insatiable on sea of sheets.

I Got It Bad And That Ain't Good

some pleasures.