I met Lynn and started seeing her around the 4th of July of 1992. I had been grieving the loss of Celta when I came to Wilmington in April of 1992.
I found love briefly with Celta and yet she died so suddenly and at such a young age. I was devastated. I didn't think I would feel, or experience love again. Then I met Lynn in 1992. We fell madly, and passionately in love. The poems that follow are about that love. I wanted to tell the story to all those who would ever follow me in the later generations about some epic love to rival any husband and wife or any couple.
We lived as husband and wife and were married in every way that mattered. As a Catholic at the time, I sought the sacrament of Holy Matrimony from the Church, but they denied us—the disgusting attitude that someone born with a debilitating illness should be denied access to the sacred! This treatment of Lynn, among many other harmful attitudes, pushed me away from religion.
Lynn was willing to embrace any way of symbolically representing our everlasting devotion, even though she wasn't Christian. We both wanted to formally move from engagement to the next stage of formal commitment to one another forever. Now, no longer religious, I can see that if the sacred exists at all, no secular piece of paper could make our bond more holy than it already was.
For years we had a normal relationship, and the fact that she had a chronic genetic illness did not define our relationship.
Our love created a sense of tranquility and serenity at its core—a deep peace and contentment that existed at all times, even when I was depressed, which was merely a transitory feeling that would pass.
In its purest form, love is distinguished from addiction, which is momentary and transitory. We do not pursue a high that we once had and cannot reach again—that would be like implying that once we discover an awe-inspiring sunrise we need a more beautiful sunrise to feel that same sense of awe.
Love is also like beauty in the sense that it's best experienced as opposed to merely being stated like some universal truth. Creative people express these experiences of awe and wonder in many forms.
These poems capture more than fleeting moments—they hold experiences where physical sensations became markers of something profound, eternal, and awe-inspiring. Each moment contained vastness, pointing to the spiritual that even non-believers in the supernatural can embrace. They are signifiers of what endures and give ultimate meaning to what really matters.
An Infinite Beach
On some beach
that never ends
I'm with her
and just for a moment
I pretend
that things never change
that sometimes,
in moments like this
we walk hand-in-hand
forever.
This is my greatest desire -
to stop time
like this...
when there is just this place,
just these beach sounds
and just
she and I.
What Really Matters
Moments
frozen in time.
That is what love
seems to be...
these moments you remember
something in these moments
(takes my breath away)
has a certain meaning
that endures -
a feeling...
an image...
something said...
or shared...
certain sounds
in the background...
whatever it is that
you remember
is all that really matters.
Introduction: We walked into the Coastline Convention Center that Sunday evening in 1995, hand-in-hand as usual, overlooking the Cape Fear River where the weekly poetry readings were held. Lynn had no idea I had a surprise for her.
We took our seats at a table with other regulars—all friends and acquaintances who knew us as the couple we were, always like newlyweds, never afraid of public displays of affection. The sun was sinking low, and the room was getting slightly dark with just a dim light up front near the podium.
When my time came, I stepped boldly to the microphone. As I read this new poem, I could sense the knowing glances from people in the room—casual looks toward Lynn as everyone understood what was happening. I wonder if she noticed those glances, waiting for her reaction to this declaration of love.
Dreamlike Visions
In this dreamlike vision
I lay in her lap,
while her golden hair
flows in the gentle wind,
On the beach.
Is this real?
I reach up to touch her
but she is gone... gone... gone
and I am laying on the sand.
Looking skyward I see her
in a vision.
She searches for me,
calling my name, saying,
"I am his and he is mine."
I try to get back
to find her
and that infinite beach
where we would walk hand-in-hand
or lay on the sand
holding each other
together
forever.
The vision -
the dream -
(incomplete)
the love
never ends...
The dream never
ends.
Follow-up to the poem: I sat back down next to Lynn as someone else prepared to read. I noticed she was doodling. One of our mutual friends commented on how much he liked the poem. I turned to Lynn and asked, "So, what do you think?"
"What?" she said, looking up confused. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening."
I shook my head and smiled. She was embarrassed, her face blushing. "I thought you were only reading poems I already heard," she said. "Oh, I'm so sorry sweetie. Let me read it."
I handed her the poem and leaned in close, my arms resting on her chair. I tilted my head and slowly brought my lips to hers. She held my lips there with her hands on both sides of my face—just for a moment, mindful of the others around us.
"It's okay," I said with a smile. "You know what... I really love you."
"I love you too, honey."
She read the poem, visibly moved by this surprise declaration of love.
This became an inside joke for us. I would tease her: "If I share a poem about our love, I hope Lynn is listening?" Her way of making up for it was to read this poem at future poetry events when she didn't have anything else to share. I can't count the number of times that happened, it demonstrated her appreciation and recognition of the value of our love.
I explained that the poem was inspired by the Song of Songs from the Old Testament and a song by the Electric Prunes called "I Had Too Much To Dream (Last Night)." I was drawn to the sensual imagery in both—the biblical celebration of love between two people committed to each other, and the dreamlike quality of the song that captured something both beautiful and haunting about love and longing.
In Love
Some would say they understand
that it is not that uncommon...
a word that is overused
because I can't find another word.
People walking past us
might have seen us holding hands
they might have known
there was love.
Yet they would not understand...
the miraculous experience
of her hand in mine
as we walked by the ocean.
They would not understand
the experiences – physical and emotional
signifiers of something worthy
of belief.
When we sat side by side
facing the ocean waves,
hearing them in the background
seeing them -
moved by something unseen -
our bodies were touching
and the best analogy for what I experienced
was electrical signals moving
at each point where our bodies
our legs, arms, thighs
were in contact.
This was not merely something
physically pleasurable,
not merely biological
emotional, chemical.
No, I knew that.
I have felt passion
but rarely have I felt
love – though I have been
mistaken more times than I can count...
Meaningless encounters
where the emptiness remained.
That core Self within me
ready for connection was not
fulfilled like it was now.
Waves of excitement, peace,
serenity, joy, clarity
flowed through moments
pregnant with meaning.
Each moment was vast in duration
each moment held eternity.
I had an epiphany and knew
what mattered, what gave life meaning
what filled that emptiness within
that brought forth the fullness of the
Self.
The feelings, moving in waves
were markers of the profound -
physical sensations that pointed beyond
themselves to something transcendent,
something that could not be reduced
to chemistry or biology alone.
I have known alcoholics that look
to a higher power.
I have known the religious who
speak of a God who alone
can fill that emptiness
within.
Everyone is looking
for what will complete them,
searching for transcendence
in substances, in faith,
in achievement, in escape.
But I have found something -
I believe in something -
I believe in love.
I can't prove it exists
beyond hormonal desires
beyond biological drives
beyond what science can measure.
But I know what I experienced:
love that is true
and real
and right...
Love that transforms
without diminishing,
that changes you
without erasing who you are,
that asks you to grow
but never to disappear,
that leads toward transcendence
while keeping you whole.
It shows you eternity
in peaceful moments
yet never asks you to sacrifice
the fire of excitement,
the expansion of joy,
the sharp clarity of being fully alive,
the creative force that moves through
two people connected
in the deepest way possible -
embodying what it means
to be complete
while remaining yourself.
I Wrote a Love Poem Once
I wrote a love poem once...
I felt it was good -
I remember how good it felt -
the love...
to write the love poem,
to share it,
to dedicate it.
I felt the poem was good.
It was many years ago...
lost - lost in the fire,
as it were,
the love...
the love poem.
I forget how it goes
the love...
the love poem.
I just cannot remember
the words I wrote...
but I know I wrote
a love poem,
once...
or twice or more...
I can't quite remember
how it goes -
that feeling,
that certainty,
that desire to feel
that again.
Introduction to Poem “The Whole Story”
Our mutual friend Jean once observed that he saw us argue often, and I was shocked by his concern. Years later, after experiencing a relationship where disagreements felt threatening, where conversations could end with hang-ups, where love itself seemed in jeopardy over differences of opinion - I finally understood what Jean had missed.
With Lynn, I never hung up the phone. When she said, 'I'm not done talking,' I never said we couldn't keep talking. The cognitive dissonance I felt when Lynn challenged my beliefs didn't threaten our bond—it transformed my thinking, because I respected her completely and knew she respected me. Isn't it strange and amazing when you can become so frustrated and irritated in a relationship with someone special but still maintain that pervasive sense of happiness and contentment! Even despite all the fights and arguments, there was always an underlying joy. That is the ineffable nature of what we had—something taken out of context might look like conflict, but within the whole story, it was actually love expressing itself freely.
The Whole Story
Our love is now like an epic novel,
thousands of pages in length,
with most pages torn
others burned - in the tragic fire.
I tried to save what I could
believing it was worth saving
or worth holding onto -
believing that nothing dies
but in the end,
what do I have?
Just scraps of the book...
Even the ring that symbolized
the bond of husband and wife
is gone.
We wrote the book together -
I remember how it was,
page after page,
chapter after chapter,
lie scattered around a room
in a forgotten home
in a forgotten place
like dark shadows
under a hazy sky.
Page after page,
written with a purpose
written with love.
Sure, there were chapters
that didn't seem to belong
or have any purpose that could be understood
but every part of the story
had a purpose and place,
whether good or bad
within the larger narrative.
This was a story to be told
for generations to come -
passed down within the family
and as part of a cultural tradition.
Looking back,
at the whole book
and not just a chapter here
or there,
taken out of context,
you see a theme
which emerges out of the many
unplanned chapters.
It was always about love
and that matters
more than the quality of the narrative...
it matters more than
how things might have seemed
at any one moment in time.