John Daniel Thieme Quotes

a few words spoken beneath the moon, love
may be, but I write your name
in the celestial dust that lingers
in the air, above
the veilchenblau roses, callow
and pale

To forget would mean the things we never knew
had never waited to be known, never waited
to be forgotten, had never been; waiting
beneath the long dead stars
in time. . .

. . . This
is not the same river at my fingertips.
There are no paths, no sunken roads
familiar in the forest, by which we can
retrace our steps,
by which we can escape
by which we can reclaim and return,
or hear the child’s song running in the timothy . . .

. . .in your light, had I learned to love, here
in your beauty, could I speak
knowing of this space close within
as the breath held inside a garden rose, there -
there is no time.

. . .the sorrows of the heart yearn
to be erased, for one final atonement
finite and forgetting and whole - but time in its preserving
will not permit forgetting; destroying
only when we can no longer beg
or argue with time
to preserve the brief benisons
a few moments longer than our sins

. . .though the names of lovers are forgotten in time, their names
written across the sky as ogham threads are traced
between the stars