Past Valentine

Memorial statues photos make of us

Until the movies came along

And now I have a video of you

On my phone for easy access

And a whole record of the world

Uploading our success and our

Falling short of one another

Repeatedly and stubbornly

But not all the pictures lie

Some you have to pick out

The electric field around us

From the experience itself

To see right past the picture

To the angels standing there

Coming Close Valentine

Close enough to touch

But never touching

This went on for months

Filled with long walks

Silent or speaking at the same time

No you go first I forget

What I wanted to say

But now fifty years later

I remember it your skin

Pulling me in us cowards

Of affection geniuses of delay

How could it be we never spoke

The truth we wanted to say

You see I still blame you for not

Going first but yes it was me

Death Is Always Early Valentine

Death falls in little pieces

Like a large fly lying on its back

Just here on my table

Under the brown lilies of Easter

Its legs folded its wings

Still catching some sun

No one to annoy or marry

Hatching little ones

No elaborate funeral to follow

Which no one attends

Which dandelion shall I

Place you under or feed

You to the lilies until

Our resurrection comes

Eighties Days Valentine

I usually start with yesterday

Without which no morning could come

Looking back over what was said

And done testing my memory

That certain gestures certain looks

Not be entirely lost on me

By which time it's afternoon

When serious work gets done

Listening to the Verdin sing

Worrying about the world to come

Doing the dishes for some fun

And suddenly it's twilight

Just enough time to catch

The button moon slip loose

The virgin dark undress

Conjugal Valentine

I watched your thoughts

Coming through on your face

I caught you thinking

Which doesn't often happen

Not the thinking but me

Catching you thinking

As in 'lost in thought'

Your eyes seeing both

Inside and outside of you

Stopping time so it all

Got quiet around us

And then you turned to me

And said, 'I was just thinking....'

As if I hadn't a clue

Always There Valentine

Some sixty years ago today

I took the habit of a monk

Face down on the floor I lay

And spoke a cloudy vow

I shortly couldn't keep

The sixties intervened

Like the sunny Renaissance after

The dogmatic Middle Ages

And I was given a small farm

A wife and a child both fine

A whole precocious heaven

With a woods where I

Could roam the rest

Of my life away

But you had other plans for me

Whoever you are

Carefully and patiently

Still homeward urging me

Except Valentine

What does the length of a day

Have to do with its width

Or its depth as you travel

Out farthest deeper down

If you let go of time

Except time to unravel

If you think of it as cubic

Transparent and alive

What does the length of a life

Have to do with what survives

If time doesn't matter

If after all it can't be taken

With you to the grave

Except what's saved

Some Days Valentine

Though I live in a small town

In the middle of an enormous city

At the bottom of an evaporated ocean

I am always conscious of the desert

Surrounding all of this which starts

To boil and bubble in early April

While we fearless frogs enjoy

These cool spring days before

(The tenderness that came back

After it had been given up on)

But what will we do with all these

Steep hills and deeper valleys

Some days I picture my life

As a mirage in this desert

The mirage of an oasis

I am crawling toward

Some days so vaporous and fine

Her Valentine

Just yesterday I discovered

There is nothing

Inside of light

She holds nothing back

But herself transparent

And up for anything

And willing to tell you

Anything you ask

And give it to you for a song

But it's darkness who holds

A place in her heart 

See how she sinks

Into his arms how she

Rises again even more herself

Novalis Valentine

Each poem of his is its own book

Of poems each line a corridor

Each word a room a door

You pass by listening

For something unexpected prophetic

Informative and thrilling

Wondering who speaks so

Urgently from so many mouths

All saying the same thing

Come I've something to show you

You won't believe her

Even when you meet her

My little suffering Sophie

Madonna of my love

It's Still Early Days Valentine

For a long time

We could only see time

Passing in light and darkness

So we called it Change

The god above all gods

Who ruled the weather

But then it happened

In the south of France I think

The god was captured

In the clock of the heart

And we could finally hear it

Ticking and tocking

The metal hand slipping

From second to third to fourth

Through us like a shiver

And then the bell would ring

Tribal Valentine

I think I've finally found my tribe

A school of red-headed finches

Who like me for my dandelion feasts

The gold I've turned to dusty seeds

Laid out for them each morning

We are a serious studious lot

Even if we hop about

From text to text precisely

Studying the light ever watchful

Of the dangers of being on the ground

From which we now and then

Ascend as one into the harboring tree

Our fears transformed to prayers

Our longings into lusty songs

Hear Tell Valentine

The grim reports from the far reaches

Of the human mind stop short

The lost armies of thinking

The last weary survivors

Set up camp there

On the cliffs above the river

Dreaming of bridges and boats

To float across this impasse

To the beautiful world that must

Be there on the other side of pitch-

Black darkness and cold

Where they light their fires

And tell their ancient stories

Of those who traveled there

And brought back word of gold

Quite Valentine

Have I settled for the shadow

Of my tree against the wall

Just now coming into leaf

In small bunches protruding

Into uniformly gray flowers

Nothing left of the tree

But the lines of its branches

When the sun sketches them

Gray on the gray block wall

Stripped down to its floating

Soul when now and then

Wind ruffles the light

And I can feel the real tree

Just there behind me

Pass through me quite

Trying To Get Down Valentine

So what's going on this morning

In that resting pretty head of yours

Leaving the tunnel of dreams

Sweeping up into a body's

Heaviness a befogged city's

Nervous energy becalmed

By the blue of this harbor

A bed's perspective on the day

Ahead where you lay your scene

Or might it not be better

To let life go on dreaming

That it's the real thing

While you sleep deeper and

Deeper beyond all dreams