From within the sands of Time,
she arose with a breeze of beauty flying in her face.
Her midnight hair enveloped my body in a tender kiss of silk.
When she shines the light of her face upon me, she cools my parched heart,
and all before her were nomads, too lazy to love, too restless to stay.
When she is away from me, my soul thirsts for her.
Each day under the torrid sun my skin cracks,
and I wait to feel her cool kiss upon my face.
Like a palm tree, I am planted in this desert.
I cannot be with her.
So with longing, I wait for her
to be with me once again.


The pulse of my heart
beats in my head,
booms in my ears,
batters my chest.
I want to dance,
to stomp my feet,
let it all out,
and hurl a scream
of primal joy.
And I want you
to see me here
all that you are,
all that you do,
all that you say.
And I want you
to dance with me,
to stomp your feet,
to feel my heart
against your heart,
and close your eyes
and let desire
carry you forth
into my dreams
and recklessly
give me your lips, and
to hell with rules,
to hell with manners,
to hell with all
that makes you waver!
Just come to me,
just fling yourself
into my arms
and let me take you
higher and higher
into the center
of the volcano,
deeper and deeper
into the eye
of the tornado, and
once we are there,
we’ll both be bare of
inhibitions, of
meaningless questions, of
prim proper reasons, so
forget all that
you think you know,
forget all that
they think they know, and
forget your mind, and
forget your past, and
remember all
your yearning heart
feels when I’m close, and
dance with the rhythm,
move with the pulse,
let out a scream
of primal joy,
and hurl yourself
into my arms,
but first you

kiss me.

Then you will feel
the pulse of your heart
beat in your head,
boom in your ears,
batter your chest,
and then we’ll be together,
your hands within my hands,
your body against mine, in a
rush of made desire,
hurricane of love,
explosion of moans, and
then you will know
all that I know, and
you will feel for me
what I feel for you, and
the rhythms of our hearts will




Away from me

your car by the curb
waiting for you in its sleep.
you never came home.

upon your rooftop,
pavarotti sings to us.
your absence is here.

poems in a box,
my pen sleeps, tired and weak.
still waiting for you.

moonlight through the glass,
shining down on your pillow.
sleeping without you.

the sun warms my cheek,
and the birds sing good morning…
morning without you.


When one day the light of your womanhood will shine in its fullest,
and the sun of my manhood will burn in its brightest,
when we will be together like clouds following the lazy path of the Nile,
when the pyramids of Cheops will have started to crumble and our love will still be
laughing in the face of Time, laughing in the face of Death,
you will know…

When even the grave robbers will have found the treasures of ancient pharaohs,
yet the secret of our stolen kisses will be safely locked in our hearts,
when everyone will wonder not how pyramids are made, but how our happiness is made,
when we will see them looking at us as if we were Anthony and Cleopatra risen from our ashes,
as if we had found the elixir of Life and drunk of it in our secret garden,
you will know…

When it will be accepted throughout the world that we are not separate entities,
but twin parts of a new entity called Us which will feed on nothing but kisses and caresses,
when lovers will look at us enviously, approach us as their king and queen and pay us homage,
when the people of the world will make a pilgrimage to see us walk before them hand in hand, eyes in eyes,
the promises that we made to each other still legible upon the scrolls of our hearts,
you will know…

When even the gods themselves will smile upon us and give you a fruitful harvest,
and bless us with the showers of their kindness and the warmth of their protection,
when the universe will stop spinning for a mere millisecond just to hear us whisper to each other,
when there will be only us, and no one to question the authority of our demanding love
or tell us how love should be , how life should be, and that is how it has been since the beginning of Time,
you will know…
how much I love you!


Gentle is your voice, like a playful
Wisp of smoke dancing around in my heart, and your blue
Eyes, hidden by the night of your hair, are twin fathomless universes which will
Never cease to lure me sweetly, dangerously,
Down deeper and deeper into the beauty of your enigmatic face.  You have
Ravished me with your feminine smile, and I am powerless to do
Anything but think of you, forever etched upon my soul.

Enraptured is my being with memories of you,
Still speaking softly to me as if you were
Standing here, close to me.  I yearn for more of the moments we have spent together,
Laughing and sharing of each other.  Though you are not with me now, I carry you
Inside my heart, like a priest carries a holy relic inside a locked coffer.  yet I
Need your lips upon my lips, for the relic is often but a cruel mocking simile of the
Goddess it represents.  So I must wait for the next moment in time when we will be with
Each other, as the yogi waits for the true peace of death. as the shaman waits for the
Rapture which brings the promise of a finer reality known only to the dreamer.


Moonlit Waltz

We danced a waltz under the moon,
And there were none to see us smile.
Although we knew we must go soon,
We danced and laughed for just a while.

We needed no music to play,
For the music played in our hearts.
And we needed no words to say,
For words through silence are like darts.

I held her close against my breast,
I felt her lips upon my cheek.
I laid my weary head to rest
The touch of her skin made me weak,

For it was warm and soft as dough,
And with her breath upon my neck,
I felt the love within me grow,
And prayed from this dream ne’er to wake.

Now when I stand under the light,
And no one watches what I do,
I close my eyes, dance in the night,
And pretend that she dances too.

My dearest love where’re you are,
Know that I miss you very much.
And know that I will not be far,
But so close that our souls can touch.


My heart, a shard of glass,
it does not bleed.  There is no more
blood to pour out of me.
It sticks in my throat, cutting my words
into bloody shreds.
Inside I have drowned,
And my life has been cut by
my heart, a shard of glass.

My mind, wet, salty, and bitter,
spills out silently through my eyes,
draining out of my aging hull.
Silently it gracefully hurls itself onto the ground,
and not even the weeds drink from it.
I float aimlessly inside
my mind, wet, salty and bitter.

That is all.


Rage beats its bloody fists
Inside the walls of my heart.
And within my mind’s mists,
Its allies hurl poisoned darts.
My throat silently screams
The curses of rotten flesh.
Death’s night mares kill my dreams
Where despair and terror mesh.
All that a man can hate
Envelops my eyes with blood’s shroud.
Trapped deep in memories
I choke on deep earth-filled regrets.
One day my heart will burst
And splatter all across my chest.
But if God saves me first,
Then let my Rage soon find Its rest.

Laundromat Dreams

Thoughts of you
tumble and turn in my mind
like my clothes on the spin cycle,
and the contained hum of the machines
is the mantra which lulls me back
into your world.
Through half-closed eyes, I see you
float your smile to me, and I remember
that it was here I first saw it,
a smile innocent yet devious,
with your freckled nose crinkled on the bridge,
your wooden hair cropped short,
your blue eyes steadily washing over me like a spring stream…
a reflection in the rippled pools
of misty fantasy,
I sigh to myself philosophically…
your voice is but an echo
bouncing off the silence of my drunken stupor,
faint enough to be too distant,
clear enough to be too close.
A loose coin clanking irregularly
against the window of the drier is
the lifeline
which binds me to this world:
it jars my senses, reminding me that
I am here, and not with you.
The drier stops, washing
me back into my body.
I put another dime in the slot,
to buy a little more time
with you, if only in my dreams.


Jolted from my assembly line past,
Enraptured by a dream-carved future, my meticulous soul
Needed you most, like a rock roughened perfectly by the icy winds of time
Needs a particular sculptor.   You offered yourself
Inside my life, like liquid fire offers itself to the steel which will slice
Form and breath into a formless and breathless matter.
Eventually, by your making, i will be, can be, nothing less than the
Realized repetition of your most heartfelt and craved visions.


Form is borne of your dreams, they hold everything.  dream,
Anticipate my lips pressing softly against yours, feel the
Need to whisper my name self-consciously under your breath,
Turn in your head like a Chinese puzzle the image of my face, let
All that you see around you be a blueprint for my calling.
Slowly, make
Yourself mine.


For Dad…

Michel Gochtovtt    5/23/1924-7/21/2012

Germinant dans les terres de ma tête,
Rappelles-toi tous tes mots de sagesse
Enveloppés dans tes petals d’amour,
Gardés frais par ta précieuse tendresse.
Oh mon père, ils poussent toujours dans moi,
Rien ne serais-je si ce n’était sans toi.
Y a-t-il rien dans mon coeur plus vivant que toi?


Grains of life you planted in my mind,
Rain, the tears I have shed when you died.
Every word of wisdom left behind
Grows like a wild garden deep inside
Of my heart, where you will always be.
Really, father, you were never gone.
You are still here, cultivating me.

Zen Fairytale

As we watched Comet
under Moon in silent Fog,
Wind carried our wish.

By the flowing stream
on a moist carpet of grass,
your tongue wets my tongue.

Flames of fire sigh
as your body under me
crushes down the sand.

Under a willow,
with cold feet in dewy grass,
weeping for our love.

Feet against the rocks
cutting skin like knives of glass,
but you hold my hand.

Up on a rooftop
under a red summer sun,
we plant cherry pits.

Floating rubber boat
heard us on the river when
we said, “I love you.”


Published in West Chester University’s Daedalus Literary Magazine, March 13, 2015

The Love Song of John Smith

How then should I presume?
And where should I begin?
Dare I, dare I assume
My words her heart to win?

Am I to be a brute?
For them it seems to work!
O, Passion, bottled fruit,
So trapped by my pride’s cork!

Love seems so natural
(In my mind, ’tis but said!)
Yet how phenomenal
That I am so afraid!

So drowned by sirens’ songs!
So maddened by their charms!
Each day this body longs
With agony, cruel and warm.

The hero in disguise
Is he whose tongue is fool.
I cannot speak those lies!
So silence, then, must rule.

A silence fraught with pain,
Madness bound by a string.
A traveler waxed in vain,
For still the sirens sing.

They know nothing of it!
And still I am to blame.
Must I so calmly sit
And watch their botched up game?

O, Mephistopheles!
Tempted am I to bet
That of those fair lilies,
Any one could I get.

The devil with my care!
I know just what to say!
The color of my hair
Grows whiter every day!

And yet, what if she mocks
Attempts to bare my soul,
And hurls against the rocks
The words to make us whole?

What foolish beast am I,
So trapped in my own snares?
From Courting must I flee
For having found her bare.

Melancholy, my cave,
(Of hope, I am bereft!)
I hope one day ’twill save
The few words I have left.

But no!  Leave me to grief,
And let my tears be proof
That Love’s only relief
Is to be kept aloof.

For is this what I seek?
To gain a nightingale
Whose thoughtless chirpings reek
of boredom, rank and stale?

And is this what I want?
A molded empty mote
Who constantly must chant
A ritual learned from rote?

And yet, what else is there
Among trivialities
Where cruelty laid bare
Doth hide in niceties?

Am I the sole remains
Of empty faithless lines?
Or am I, then, the Fool
(And do they see the signs)?

My temple has no place
In worlds without a faith
Where Truth is but a face
Where Love is but a wraith.

So let me die in peace
Each day a little more.
One day, my hopes will cease.
Eros will be no more.

As summer turns to fall,
Then fall into winter,
I must forget the Call
To make them all better.

Their games will become Truth.
My rules will never be.
And then, as passes Youth,
My desire, set free.

Let silence be the rule.
Let Pain be what I praise.
If I am thus the Fool,
Then Love be but a maze.
Go on, you oafish boys,

And sputter all your lies!
If women be your toys,
My dreams, therefore, are sighs.

Aphrodite, goodbye!
You were my only love.
But now, Boredom’s dead cry
Is all that rings Above.

And now he speaks to her,
Not caring what he says.
And as I look at her,
She seems as in a daze.

She slowly nods her head
And feigns to hear him speak.
(But how her heart is dead,
For all his words are weak!)

A Cerce with a swine,
(Yet still her smile she keeps!)
His lust, the potent wine
Which lulls her to her sleep.

I yearn to offer her
The treasures in my tongue.
I need to rescue her
From boredom’s plaintive song.

How then should I presume?
And where should I begin?
Dare I, dare I assume
My words her heart could win?

Desert Rain

Carefully combing the crowd,
Always wanting to find woman
To make me more than mortal man,
Hoping to hear love call me clear and loud,
Every day, like a nomad in the desert of loneliness, i
Reached out and grabbed strangers with my piercing gaze.
Impatience urged me on, rough rider on tired mount. but yet
Never i thought that in my desperate search for a hidden you, i
Ever would stumble upon you, flower bloomed from rained tears.

Black Jungle

The stars.
The sky.
Nothing else.
looks down upon me
through the thousand eyes
of other planets.
The world is a
I look about,
pearls of sweat trickling
down my brow,
drowning my eyes in
An animal screams,
the hair on my spine,
draping me in a blanket of icy
The flutter of bat wings
rapes the silence of the night.
An owl hurls a scream
into my ears.
The trees, like me, shiver,
though the wind tries to soothe us
with its caress.
Life underground
stands still. Quiet
silent marauders,
tiptoe through the bushes
seeking their prey.
They will find me soon,
I realize nervously.
The moon reflects all
in the paths undercover,
to my need for clarity. Suddenly
a ribbon of light appears between the branches of an elm.
I sigh. I am master now.


Je me demande si quand je serai vieux,
Et ma jeuness ne sera que mémoires,
Je me demande si je serai heureux.
Etant si seul, je ne peux point y croire.
Combien de femmes mes yeux ont-ils suivis?
En ésperant mes regards retournés?
Combien de rires ont semé ma folie?
Quoique paisible, secrètement tourmenté.

J’aurais voulu amour avant amie,
Comme un Chrétien, la vie avant la mort.
J’aurais donné mon cœur avec oubli,
Mais l’amitié est le plus grand trésor,
Car le voyage vaut plus que l’abordage.
J’aimerais y être sans avoir essayé.
Ah, ce voyage, il m’offre aucun soulage!
Quoique paisible, secrètement tourmenté.

Ces belles lettres, écrites avec fureur
Ne furent que mots étranglés sans pitié.
Ma langue nouée par une timide peur,
Causera-t-elle ma solitude damnée?
Je pense le mieux, mais ne dis que le pire.
Ma plume flourit, mais ma bouche est fanée.
Mon amour fou, je ne peux que l’écrire.
Quoique paisible, secrètement tourmenté

My Empty Garden

She lies inside my mind, hidden in my hunger, the seed of a pregnant fruit rotting away.
Under the dark depths of my soul, the fountain of Life drips away,
waiting for her to come and drink from me my kiss.
Beyond my eyes, they pass me by, strangers, walking graves unfertile for her birth,
and their vacant eyes fall upon me and float away like dried out leaves,
slaves to the whims of a tired wind.
Overrun by the choking weeds of my sighs,
Love is an empty garden, guarded by the angel of Time
wielding the flaming sword of Desire.


How my soul longs for thee
In silent misery.
A smile painted on my face,
as I try to hide Disgrace.
O, sweet rose of my heart,
Why must we be apart?
O, sweet flower of my soul,
Only you can make me whole!
The Father holds me dear
And brushes off my fear.
But tears across my face
Keep me so far from Grace.
Yet hope within my breast
Envelops my regrets
Like a mantle of silk,
Like a mother’s sweet milk.
I refuse to give in
To the despair within.
She lies within the earth
And I wait to give birth
To eternal Eden,
My blessing and my bane.
I wait for You, O Lord!
If you but say the Word,
I know that she will come,
My rose, my healing balm.

May Tomorrow Come

My palms are wet, my throat is dry,
My heart with yearning breathes a sigh,
For well I know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

Who knows what Fate has stored for me?
It may be love, or misery.
But well I know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

Why did I wait for you to break
This bashfulness?  My worst mistake!
For I should know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

Maybe I wish that you will see
That only you can set me free…
You may not know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.

If you could see into my mind,
These very words, then, you would find:
“Do you not know, your kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow?”

I pray you not to think me bold
If more than touch, I want to hold,
But you must know, a kiss held back today
May never come tomorrow.


The red tide of your lips
washes through my senses
and floods my heart with desire.
like a tsunami, your hair
crashes against the rocks of my self-control
and fills me with recklessness.
Your smile is the eye of the hurricane,
unhurried peacefulness
amidst my furious passion.
And each minute, I pray
that like a river into the sea,
you will rush into my arms.


Like a swan, graceful and proud,
You glide across the lake of my eyes.
I am left with quiet desperation
As beauty ripples out from you.

You glide across the lake of my eyes,
Your smile leaves a wake of hopes.
As beauty ripples out from you,
My heart is flooded with uncertainty.

Your smile leaves a wake of hopes.
I fish for something to say, but
My heart is flooded with uncertainty.
My words are but sunken rocks.

I fish for something to say, but
Your beauty drowns all my thoughts.
My words are but sunken rocks.
You have disturbed the waters of my existence.

Your beauty drowns all my thoughts.
I have been sadder ever since
You have disturbed the waters of my existence.
Everything was so peaceful before.

I have been sadder ever since
You have disappeared from my life.
Everything was so peaceful before
The tides of Life carried you away.

You disappeared from my life
Like a swan, graceful and proud.
The tides of Life carried you away.
I am left with quiet desperation.

A prayer

In the shadows of my heart,
lurking behind the specters
which guard me from you,
there sleeps a little light.

But what keeps us both apart,
like iron-clad fetters,
is the mere thought that you,
so dazzling and bright,

Might not even exist,
because God’s will might be
that I must live my life as a lonely recluse

So my soul, clenched like a fist,
screams and pleads with Destiny
in lofty clouds above
to let the specters loose.

And this tiny sleeping light,
which some men often call Hope,
seeks either the will of Fate
or my tongue’s deliverance

Thus each day is like a night
in which blindly I grope
for a key to the gate
in the mansion of Chance.

An answer

I was sold in days of old
for a bag of pieces, thirty.
Though I was blessed from above,
Yet alas, my enemies

They were bold, the lies they told,
And they showed me no mercy.
How they pushed and how they shoved
my frail body on a tree.

So as I gaze upon thee,
my poor, lonely Gregory,
I see you are always kind,
to strangers who oft have less.

I can feel your empathy,
but also your agony,
though you think me deaf and blind
to your heart’s deep emptiness.

But know this, my aching child,
I promise soon you will meet
the soul for which you so long,
the woman of all your dreams.

Just hold on a little while.
She will be fair, bold, and sweet.
Know that I am never wrong.
Nothing is e’er what it seems.

Like a sword within the fire,
You must first be purified.
Like a wine inside a flask,
You must lose all bitterness.

Each new day you must aspire
to be just and dignified.
In this life, it is your task
to harbor no false regrets.

Learn to love, but not to yearn,
and above all, love yourself,
for if you curse who you are,
you assume that I have failed.

All things through work, you must earn,
Love sits not upon a shelf.
When you wish upon a star,
let your faith be its bright tail.