…what is sacred is the other person -we forget that sometimes – and fail to honor who they are …

…I put you on the pedestal – made you a saint – dare I blaspheme?…

…I don’t just wish you rain, Beloved – I wish you the beauty of storms…

…with you, I find peace from pain – You are gentle and healing like the landscape—like rain…

…a sensual life is a ghostly existence where you live on the surface and your soul passes through everything, touching nothing …

…sorrow binds us – I will always cherish you – my only disillusionment is unspoken words …

…you can’t rationalize suffering – it’s indeterminate – the real unknowable variable God substitutes in…

…if you’re an actor, and you’ve thought your way into the part, then you’re character portrayal will have authority…

…Sunday evenings are heavier than clouds with rain, darker too and often interminable…

…I remember your profile in darkness outlined by stars …

…all these epic battles and monsters lately – but love is a tiny world and I prefer a more personal style…

…I don’t want what other men see in you- you the you I want is invisible but it is the part of you I really love…

…a bard’s down-to-earth love: My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red and when she walks, treads on the ground…

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…