always from endings, more beginnings,
more false starts, more sad finales,
more twists, more turns.
a kind of vicious unicycle
on which we're perched precariously
between heaven and that special hell
where choruses of angels sing
you can't and won't go home again.

and yet
and yet somehow some way a few manage somehow some way
to make it back, stumbling, dirty, tongues bloated, black with hunger and thirst
desperate, yearning prodigals in rags

for them
these found unbound and fortunate few
a feast laid on a table golden and groaning
rare victuals beyond imagining
apples of their Father's eye
heaps of chinese chow and lark's tongues
suet pudding
and chicken southern-fried.

i don't know why things turn out the way they do
why some get all the breaks
and others spend their lives in listless wandering
i'm dazed and confused like dorothy in the land of oz
seemingly so far from home and yet only so far as my heart desires.

of all those times
when i was close
so close i felt the breath of God
and felt his touch in yours
of all those times
i think the best
was after all the steam had cleared
the musk had settled
and across your sleeping face
i saw a dream pass in semblances
like ripples on a limpid pool
oh i thought it's me he's dreaming of
it's me he's holding in his arms
my lips he's kissing
my hair he musses with his long rough fingers

i was there a long time watching
eyes glazed like looking glass
a fat self-satisfied narcissus drunk on dreams
and mumbling
no place no place like home.

Roma June 2009