by Sue Ellen Thompson

The ones not chatting
in the coffee shop.
The ones not
holding hands,
walking in the park.
In the grocery store,
they’re aisles apart.

But once one of them
is gone, you’ll see
the other gazing
at a vacant place —
one hand extended
at an angle, grasping
empty space.

He who hesitates
behind a shopping cart
is neither lost nor searching
for harissa paste,
just waiting for
what isn’t there
to round the corner.

by Larry Goodell

How do I touch the spirit which is inviting me
to touch it
as I reach out and it reaches through me
as if passing in the dark, in the light
(and touches someone else).

by Larry Goodell

Arising from the pain into the light of love
the laugh in free heart, the careful ease
of smooth working joints and reliable body.
Sensuous pleasure of just being.

For anyone who likes me
you are my pedigree
the stilts that support me.
Whether good or bad
you are the me that was me.

Rage against the robbing of delight
I hold these truths to be imaginable
all people are created for equality
to keep their church separate from state
of the state separate from any church.

What is the text of sleep
some mouths are thick lipped
and linger long in love.

by Larry Goodell

Sweet flower of transformative light
as I get down on my knees bent hurting
to get my nose competing with bees to smell you
and stand, no need to kneel —
the aromas are wafting everywhere.