Hypothetis

If only we danced
—it
with the Messiah on land

If only we sang
—it
when a Peace was at hand

If only we hugged-
—it
when Kings read the Greeks

If only we kissed
it
during extended French weeks

If only we loved
—it
on-top an Armistice parade

If only we hugged
—it
by free fallen limonade

If only we caressed-
—it
without coffee/sugar/cream

If only we rested

destruction being Distant dream

If only we blessed
—it
two weekends in a row I hear

If only we missed
—it
the Paradise exit so near

Maariv

In the early morning rage
a helpless quest
for ill-contorted shoes

In his daily afternoon’s wage
lunge and recoil
at tied time bound to lose

In her often night of age
uneasy excursions
(pssst—“snooze that stays the snooze”)

In the praying midnight tolls
a semi-smile believed in
the toucing beauty of her muse

For Most

For most in my thought,
in my thought-stream’s
little splashes,

no pads of semi-permanence lie
in wait,
afloat.

For most in my dream’s
life, in my went years
seen scaling up skies, I

have not substance to match
with wavering
image.

For you,

on one end of love’s
radii firmament, of physics
and company
burrowing through

the heart-set sense
of reconciliatory
understanding,

for you

what I have
is yours alone, except
when mine

and still
in the original.