Unseen loons

my finger lingers, along your photograph, and snow swept fields, where you have waited forever, and I have searched in vain, for your cold touch across my strong back, in this lifetime, or the last, or the next, like unseen loons calling “here I am” “here I am”

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Secret

behind my father’s secret library,

another secret library,

behind that one,

another,

behind that one,

Heidegger and Jung,

behind that Diogenes,

and then you – you blue eyes stretching,

across grey skies and black seas,

the taste of salt,

lingering across prairie grass,

and our final embrace

The hole

The hole in my heart,

I tried to fill it with alcohol,

Then I tried to fill it with learning,

Then I tried to fill it with money,

Then I tried to fill it with sex,

Then I tried to fill it with Jesus,

Then I tried to fill it with family,

Then I tried to fill it with fitness,

Then I tried to fill it with ideas,

Then I tried to fill it with philosophy,

Then I tried to ignore it by staying busy,

Then I tried to fill it by watching movies,

How do you fill your heart hole?

Then I tried to fill it with sorrow,

Then I tried to fill it with anger,

Then I tried to fill it with empathy,

Then I tried to fill it with hate,

Then I tried not to fill it with anything,

Then I tried to fill it with imagination,

Then I tried to fill it with fantasy,

But, turns out, the hole has no bottom,

The hole has no event horizon,

Turns out,

I am the hole.