Michael Seeger lives with his lovely wife Catherine and still-precocious 16 year-old daughter Jenetta in a house with a magnificent Maine Coon (Jill) and two high-spirited Chihuahuas (Coco and Blue). He is an educator (like his wife) residing in the Coachella Valley near Palm Springs, California.
Villanelle of Your Death
I gaze at the sunset and make no plans listening to the pigeons on the roof-- not from complacency but acceptance.
The mountains outline the sun’s reflectance, Coral clouds gathered in the east don’t move; I gaze at the sunset and make no plans.
It is difficult to write a sentence -- the dog-less yard endures without a woof, not from complacency but acceptance.
The evening’s long shadows heighten sentience of all things remotely close and aloof -- I gaze at the sunset and make no plans.
There’s an elevating independence that comes by seeing from such a remove-- not from complacency but acceptance.
Though you have gone, the house holds your essence Untouched like a needle stuck in its groove-- I gaze at the sunset and make no plans not from complacency but acceptance.
The Darkness of Our Love
et us forget with generosity those who cannot love us. —Pablo Neruda
Like dementia, the loss was gradual though obvious. Scales fell quietly like autumn leaves, vanishing from my eyes. Alone I stood a bare tree in late summer; You no longer knew me -- as if always meeting for the first time.
The mist over the trail thickened like blood. The dark nights wore forgettable faces like cyphers whose only real power lay in words —words which brought disengagement, hardly noticeable at first....
But which proved to be a colossal, ever-widening, chasm —like love recklessly professed, tumbling aimlessly. At the center of it all, there was comfort in the darkness of our love,
Fumbling over thresholds for what We knew must lay just beyond -- Something. Blind men knew More. Searching the mind for thawing thought or what disarms what’s deeply seated.
For Words to invoke the sacred name of Superstition —a valid charm (Often vaguely repeated to dis- engage the reasoning mind) to bless, or curse, and get what’s needed from the deep night’s undercurrent.
My Love Wears Shoes of Italian Leather
Though her steps seem as light as a feather -- My love wears shoes of Italian leather.
She is my stay against life’s confusion -- My love's both beginning and conclusion
I bring her heart-shaped boxes of velvet -- Making my forays when feeling well, but
It leaves me at the end of my tether -- I rest amidst her blue and grey weather.
And we will be forever together. My Love wears shoes of Italian leather
But I am in love and love what vanishes This kingdom I am seeking banishes
Is it fear or is it love I'm finding -- Though her voice glows, her words can be blinding.
Concupiscent verse every other day Allows me to have her have her own way.
And what we do we do it together -- My Love wears shoes of Italian leather.
A storm brewing -- above the valley darkened
clouds gather, descending along the western range --
shimmering with lightning flares echoing thunder
rolling high along the canyon walls distilled the bright
awareness swirling within the deepest brown of
your eyes —promising blue skies and growth.
Traversing the trail descending Murray Hill high above
the shimmering desert sand of the Coachella Valley
the steady strain of rain that fell-- a melody as sweet as
the song of birds —has lingered in my ears ever since