A Phosphorescent Moment in Time

A Phosphorescent Moment in Time
--For Andrew and Rita

Every time a smile is cajoled onto your lips
your eyes glitter with the gleam of fresh wonderment
and when you laughed I saw you, unfettered and unburdened
I can only say, unambiguously
to let your assurgent spirits fly in this phosphorescent moment in time
this tenuous, tremulous present is all we every have
find a cavern in this moment
let the faint dew of eupathy lightly caress your head
stand taller, your courage inspissate
& bury the purgatory yesterday in the pathos of splendid tomorrows.

The Purpose of Sundays

The Purpose of Sundays

Museums are unmistakably Sunday fare. Sundays are nostalgia, chardonnay and laughing in the sun on the cusp of spring. Sundays are wandering through the city with you langourously, singing and liberating ourselves from the shadowy figures which scuttle past us whispering the code for liberation. Oblivious, I am in love with Sunday, discovering what a wondrous mistress she is, and how she drapes the curtains over me, and offers me up to a clique of friends like a jewel from a treasure trove needing polish; and so we leave the restaurant with ebullience for eyes.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpsINi1scow