your moods and colors are my climate, not the changing face of the sky

…the religion of the heart is as intimate as a wish breathed to the night sky…

…you know I wanted a Madonna, not a whore – I made you sacred offering you my words…

…don’t be afraid of going by a way you’ve never gone – that’s the way we’re all going…

…when you enter a room, my wound opens, but there is light, always light, when you come in…

…I hardly ever see your profile, but have I told you it’s beautiful? – like the soft gentle lines of snow…

…If I ever got sloppy and maudlin, it would be for the streets of my childhood—but no self- respecting writer should ever eulogize a slum…

I keep coming back to certain books, and you—to try to find myself again

..snow gently settles like dust in a shaft – for one moment there is no one else – only the wind like the hiss of an ice skate …

…I’m shy in person – so afraid to confess my love – I need a go-between – our mutual friend, the Moon…

suffering breaks us until there’s nothing left but gentleness

…who would have known the dark eyes staring into mine would become our children’s eyes…?

…wherever there is society, there is authority and the temptation to disobedience because our individual wills refuse to submit…

I think there are lovely sunsets in hell—and that’s where my desire for you is sending me

…that’s the essence of me – I don’t think, I feel – at best, I think-feel…

…you became lost in the maze of me – forgive me Love, for keeping you close…

…You say you don’t mistrust me, yet you quote Chrysostom – Hell is paved with priests’ skulls….

…at seventeen I tried to write poetry confining myself solely to Anglo-Saxon words – don’t know if it helped, but it made me more concrete …

the struggle is not with others, but within us, to do what we are called to do

…I prefer rain -sometimes I feel sunlight will turn me to stone – perhaps I’m a Troll…

…at morning, I’m unruffled – I’ll sit with my tea and Muse Cat beside me and listen to the soft chime of the grandfather clock…

…I pray this winter be gentle and kind – a season of rest from the wheel of the mind…

… you are lovely – God has painted every feature of your soul …

I am your stone of necessity calling up spirits from rain puddles—your Magus of words

…you go back to liberate the captives and sadly realize, some want to remain tied down in the cave…

RedheadAll over the houseStrands of copper hairLike filaments from a cobwebCollect.If you and IWere ever to part— For months, perhaps years,I’d be combing out,Brushing or picking upStrands of significance,Traces of youIn my life

…the most beautiful things don’t always make you happy – often they make you weep…

I am in love with the stars of night – I have made them audible…

…I’m not afraid of the opinions of others – but of being needed and coming up short …

…we’ve let go of so many things, but never each other’s hand …

…what else would a poet priest do on an endless night, but write of love?…

…at some point we must achieve our identity -we can’t be always in adolescence seeking who we are…

…you can use words if you wish, but I’m warning you – I’ve learned how to read your heart …

…art is weaker than life – in the end I have a bag of letters to scrabble into order – rune tiles to cast my fate…

…my novels are like life – I never know where they’re going until I get to the end…

…you want the sweetness of our beginning without the bitterness of our struggle – what are you asking – do you want light without shadow? …

…I always thought youth were idealists – now, I’m not so sure – I’m more idealistic now then at 17…

…we have entertained ourselves with the pornography of violence and inflamed passions that might otherwise have slumbered…

…today there are bars of light on the rug, but Muse Cat prefers his tomato box where he can dream in private…

…winter crescent resting in the high pine bough – you fly through the woods like a lone snow bird…

…Neruda was right about all mysterious women – The moon lives in the lining of their skin…

A heart never breaks in the same pattern of pieces

…don’t you realize a flawless profile means nothing when a mere smile drives me to desperation? Don’t you covet that power?..

…if you always move in certainty, your writing will be flat – creativity is a rugged terrain…

you are the mysterious fire at my finger tips

…the feelings that pass between us are deeper than fleshly touches…

our hearts break, and take us out of relationships that are too painful for us

…you found me in my lonely labyrinth and like Beatrice, led me out of my own hell…

…you knew I was confused, tormented, but you enticed me – led me on…

…I’m a modern mountebank – I believe in Physiognomy – after all, we are in control of our face – it’s the map of where we’ve been…