Yellow Roses To Keep

Love Sonnet XVII: I love you as certain dark things are loved,/secretly, between the shadow and the soul. ....... I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,/I love you simply, without problems or pride
Love Sonnet XI: I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair./Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets...... all day/I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps...... I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. ....... I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,/the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,....... hunting for you, for your hot heart,/like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

Yellow Roses To Keep

I lost something in 1989.
Through Barack's elevation to
The White House
I stand to regain it.
Obama 08 has been deeply, deeply personal
To me. It has been therapy, it has been catharsis.

I had a happy freshman year at college.
Then I lost it again.
I thought I might regain it in New York City.
I am not complaining, it has been exciting.
But during those first few minutes with you
I felt it again. Before I sank back
Into the swamp of half living, not
Having a sense of belonging, of
Being on guard. The prejudice cobra
The racism cobra might strike.
But I am a big boy now. I am going to
Stare down the cobra.
I sank right before your eyes.
The swamp had the advantage of years.
You sank into your cynicism
The isolation of your throne
Guys not measuring up to
A warm bath and a good book.

Your cynicism that oh
It was just a homeboy thing
Let him meet the Kentucky dude
And see for himself how he also gets excited
Or he got taken by the Wes Clark name
Let him meet Wes Clark.

I know Indiana like the back of my hand.
India to Indiana is quite a journey.

In the mid 30s, someone is much more
Refined, you know yourself much better
The contours of one's life and being
Are much sharper.
It is easy to see there is not total overlap.
It is easy to get cynical
A little less alive.
It is easy to fall into the safe patterns
Of daily routine.
Of no longer dreaming the big dreams.

But I reject.

Or you could say
You have to find you before
You can find your soulmate.
It takes time to find you.
For me it has been that and trips into wilderness.

You gave me the pre-1989 feeling
Those first few minutes.
And then we both sank.

I guess it takes effort.

But the circling started right away
We both, in our own ways. We kept moving.

Your political poetry.
My flounderings on Nepal, Obama, the startup.

I complained.
I had issues.
I had not written
My online autobio yet.
I needed to process some pain, a lot of pain
Lurking beneath my calm exterior
Before I could see straight.

We circled like people from two very
Different cultures.
Trying to figure out the meaning of
A little gesture this, a little gesture that.
We gave up many times.

I would get angry.
Between me looking in your direction
And seeing someone who likes me
And your actually saying so
That was a racial infinity.
So does that make you a Miss 99%?
Territory to the soldiers of social segregation?
Or a Miss 1%? I thought.
Worse, what if you hop back and forth
Like quantum particles
That are both there and not there.

We confused each other plenty.
After the bookstore hectoring
I was on guard. Give me something concrete.
Or you will just as well throw me to the dogs.
Or you would punish me for rejecting you
With full social force. Even when
I never rejected.

Don't touch me?

There would be long periods of lull.
And then showing up at events.
Mostly you acting professional.
Your professionalism was killing me.

And then there would be flashes.
The summer bash and your touching.
The Holiday party and your brushing full force.
And in between several.
The street fair, the waving to the crowds, Irish Rogue
The education committee event, serving water
Whisking the women away.

And I would be like, if you like me today
You must have liked me yesterday
You will like me tomorrow.
That is what 2.0 is for.

Your acts of disappearing, like an art form
The expression of a basic pain.

I kept looking for something concrete.
I needed something verbal.
I needed to feel safe.

I kept wanting you in 2.0.
I already know what you look like
We have already talked before
Come enter my world of remote talk.
Let's make geography irrelevant.

For you the starting point had to be face time
Or not.

I give you that 5.0 is way richer.
But 2.0 is a coral reef too.

I think you are looking for
A shouting match.

And then you gave up on me.
You felt the shock tremors from Louisiana.
The banking industry took a big hit.
You became guarded about your throne.
The fire alarm went off.
Third persons did a little song and dance.

What was that at the zipper factory?

I have done some amazing work
For Nepal, Obama, and the startup
In the 2.0 environment
But I have paid a price.
I am slightly damanged, slightly broken.
You can ask me to go fix myself first.
Or you could participate and help me
Build back my social muscles.
With your participation, I think
I could build back very fast.
On my own, I fear
I might just become more damaged.
Because the work can not stop
The work has me in its grips.

I guess it takes effort.
We know each other better than on day one.
It is not true we have not talked.
Each time I have seen you in person
Has felt like an elaborate conversation.

Amitabh and Jaya did not hook up on day one.
It's okay.
It takes time.
There are no short cuts.

You carry the weight of history on your shoulders
I carry the weight of history on my shoulders.
For you, I will neutralize
Sexism, physicalism.


This city is magic.
My mind is exploding with dreams
And possibilities.
And I want you to know I feel for you.
You can tell me you don't feel for me today
But you can't say you have never felt for me.
But why would you
Why would you say you don't feel for me today?
I am better today than ever before.
I would like to believe
I am a good looking kind of guy.

Yellow Roses