Relic — the curve of longing

for Anjoo If you were still alive I’d grab you by your lush black hair drag you to the cafes of our past recount for you my many conquests, read aloud my poetry, drink red beer until we nearly fall in love. It’s late. We stagger home through streets empty of moon, of birdsong, talk […]

via Relic — the curve of longing

Please read and follow my friend. She is a true poet of the rarest kind. Each word is a caress.

Minkowski’s Love Poem

Minkowski’s Love Poem

(Einstein’s teacher who suggested space-time in 1908)



how we see ourselves

is an illusion     an avatar

of wishful thinking

reflected in the eyes of our admirers

every gesture practiced

refined    garmenting

the image of a self 

we can never be 


 a part of the logarithm

of our non linear lives

imagine X in terms of Y

in terms of X



we dream 

each other’s daily lives

beyond touch 

separated by oceans

by choices 

shed the bravado

the pride   you

are forgiven   forgive me


i would rip the fabric of the universe

bending the geometry of space time


to kiss you 


Please Follow

You know, when you have a talented friend and you  endlessly berate them to publish…….. well…….



I was lucky enough to attend the Women’s Writer’s Center in Cazenovia, New York with Deborah. She has finally put her work up on her new WordPress site, The Curve Of Longing. Please check out her writing. Please read and follow her blog. There you will find the most emotionally raw, real and heartfelt lyric poetry out there on WordPress. Please give her your time and attention. Thanks, Cindy

One True Thing


One True Thing

tell me one true thing

demanding without fear

without petulance

just one    between us

what is true

escapes the moment

yet I see my words

spelled out a contrail

in the summer sky

one thing in our world

you laugh predictably

touch your fingertips to your ear

as if I’m silent

noon day heat

light breezes toss my words

beyond you sidestep

the contrails fade

my words hang

hotter than any sun

glaring    yes one true thing

don’t whisper I love you

don’t whisper always

forever is not true

so breakable ephemeral

lies spiral up

you want to say

yes but no but

I can’t    you can’t

say anything can you

truth catches in your throat

while all around us

the truth of nature smiles

bite it if you dare

swallow the world entire

you will never hold it

within you    I know

one true thing

you can’t tell me




Sonnet 54 William Shakespeare



O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns and play as wantonly
When summer’s breath their masked buds discloses:
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwoo’d and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made:
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.

Irises Again – Geometry In Nature

One of the best things about my job as a swim instructor/coach is the beautiful landscaping around our facility. On my way in the door, I’m greeted by live flowers every day. IMG_3652 2.jpgThis iris is so delicate like a white & purple butterfly delighting in its otherworldly ruffled wings. The white is absolute and the purple starts as speckles and culminates in a full explosion of color at the curling edges. The very central three petals form a purple & white triangle radiating out & each petal has a central white streak within the purple radiating inward to a precise centerpoint. These irises seem to be a series of repeating triangles lain crisscross upon each other. Each ruffle appears to be part of the curve of a perfect spiral. (Words cannot to it justice!) Everyday new ones are transforming from tight bud & unfolding themselves to the sun. Then, they just sway in the spring breeze for us to enjoy.

Dear Lorraine, @blindzanygirl, I am writing this description for you, because you care!

Ars Poetica


                             for Archibald MacLeish 


it was Greece

so easily

opening my eyes

I want you


climb through my petticoat

white curtains billow

cerulean oceans

somewhere between these

lips petulant vortex

pressed palm of my hand

the love line extends off

infinitely becoming

there is a point


between your breasts

where harmony overcomes

angels fly from my fingertips

gently along the crescent of your sleep

give me your hand

its already too late

our eyes flashed


gave us away

even ordering wine

is impossible without you


come run away with me


all night long

the full moon spoke

words of love

to her little stars


this is a female constellation