Excerpts from The Hunger
"The Hunger is about the longing for love and the search for a relationship that is more than a simple liaison. Over the years I kind of fell into short term affairs which were mostly of a physical nature. I like to think that I have a gift for bringing love to my bedmates, but there is an inherent limitation to such relationships. Like Chinese food, an hour later you want more! I guess after a while I resigned myself to being the late night phone call recipient. I know it sounds like BS but I’ve paid the dues to sing these blues. The “urge to merge” has been both my salvation and my curse. Perhaps the following poems will provide a cautionary tale for anyone contemplating a free-range existence."
All the Romantic Places in the World
Being part of a secret
Is a guilty pleasure
That in the beginning
Is deliciously sweet
And in the end
Is as bitter a pill to swallow
As was ever prescribed
If you’re good
You get to come back
If you’re not good enough
It’s just one of those things
But after the blush
Wears off
After you’ve gotten
A few affairs under your belt
You begin to long for
What you cannot have
And when you realize
That you cannot have what
True lovers have
A sadness overtakes you
Which almost certainly
Guarantees that you will
Always be in the shadows
Giving solace and
Receiving it in kind
Behind closed doors
Whilst true lovers
Laugh and kiss and
Touch each other in all
The romantic places
In the world
CHOPIN
What I remember most
Is this feeling of
Holiday
Knowing that
It would end
And the drudgery
Of the world would
Soon return
So I savored the
Moments as best I could
Knowing that I was
Somewhat handicapped
By my lack of sophistication
In certain realms
We labored
Loved and
Lived within the walls
Of our respective hearts
Citadels really and
I do miss you
Miss your playing the piano most
So delicate and alive
A common thing for you
For me
The sweetest pleasure
Like a ray of light in the murkiest catacomb or
A soft hand caressing my grizzled cheek
My God
It was a sound that touched me
The clod
As deeply as possible
Making me want to climb
Mountains in your name
To worship you by
Loving you in the sweetest way
To lay at your feet
The sum total of my wealth
Your laughter
Your kisses
Chopin
This is what I miss
Occasional Lover
Afterwards
on your bureau:
family, the family dog
the soon-to-be-ex-husband
But no sign that I was ever here
no trace of my impact on you
except an unmade bed and
you coming out of the bathroom
looking flummoxed and happy.
I want my legacy to be more
than a sly smile that fades
over coffee and toast
More than walls that echo with the
passions of the desperate and lonely
More than a brief memory painted
on the breath of night evaporating
like the dew at sunrise.