First Love: Introduction
In Anthesis: Item 1 of Tome of Stars, the poem Trilogy opens with this quatrain:
The first, a golden fairy springtide spawned—
I raised a temple, holy scripts adored.
She kissed another, and her heart was gone;
She left me shattered, all beliefs abhorred.
First Love is about that golden fairy. Her light was a filigreed Elven lantern in the woodlands, magical, to be adored, but still an earthly marvel dimmed years later in the greater brilliance of the Stargirl. And yet the poet once loved her (and part of him ever will). After the first nine musical albums, he felt the nearly 40-year-old books of poetry about her deserved some songs. There are only 12 songs in First Love, the last one with lyrics written in 2026 to transition this work to Tome of Stars — thus, eleven poems selected from much larger collections of older works. It is therefore only a short summary. It is not the full story. But, it is enough.
Little Whistler
Something you
put on my jacket and red paisley tie
and danced so unknowingly desirable
in the flower-laden school garden
with your glowing golden smile
upon grasses that call for bare feet
Eyes ice blue
of melting sky - melting all that is I
my senses swirling, spinning, watching
the prize jewel of spring glide
like an effervescent kiss into my arms
my ears pound with my heartbeat
Walking on water, hand in hand in heart in love in Time
Fly, love, fly!
First love is a magic tonic, and when your love spontaneously drapes herself in your oversized clothes and prances around like a wood fairy in a garden without shoes, it permanently imprints itself on your mind.
Everything is Nothing but You
the gods have carved so many books,
yet a nature sleeps untouched before myopic minds
and the hunger to distill the essence of the magic broth
lies still in a bright and humbling hue
the chorus cries of answers, of thus and so
and cosmic stringed nth-dimensional this upon integrations plethoric
thus,
(and only thus)
to take what lives intangibly and cage it on a page
so that the universe will invert and self-react
in a since of therefores infinitely how.
yet Still,
beyond any answer i love You,
beyond comprehensible explanation -
beyond a now’d whenfinite.
thus (and only thus) but therefore because
eternally howeverless yes, do i.
The poet as a young man inspired by his love try his hand at e.e. cummings, with his own physical sciences slant.
Vade Mecum
Magic dryad of blue-day eyes
From afar I tasted your singing tones
in concerto with forest and mountain spring
bathing my heart in colors of counterpoint
Through these misting mountains green
wandering has borne me along your woodland lane
Natural creature - please! Sing to me once more
I wonder spellbound, lost beside this shore
My breath is gone, my chest heaves with sweet pain
My soul has flown to live with elven limbs
and drown its woe upon a nymph's soft breast
This drunk pen sculpts your radiance askew
all to fill the leaflets of this battered book
I bloat a lifeless lover with your dreams
in feeble spell to summon your beauty to my mind
Ever sweet dream, you have cast away my chains
Music yellows upon dusted sheets of composition
but bears beauty airwinged when taken to string
Breathe into these shattered lungs your kiss
that our symphony may shower the forest with melody
Take this parched book and drown it in the sea
Long-distance relationships leave imagination to fill in what is missing, and the poet grew weary of his book of poems about his love and just wanted her around.
Garland
Your mother mocked the mails that burst your box
And mused I played some narcissistic game.
But it was my heart that you might be kissed,
by each petal that shaped the haunting rose,
by each rose that touched the bright bouquet,
by each garland painting the wedding feast.
I toiled to crown you with a lyric wreath.
Some I picked in haste when emotion ruled.
Some I labored long and refined like gold.
All linked with earnest steel to my soul.
Each is my gift afar to bring you light
To shape each day for you in loving warmth
To show your heart despite the doubt of distance
How loved a lady you have become.
Long-distance relationships tend to fail. The poet worked hard to maintain a connection. He ultimately failed as his first love turned to others around her for affection. But it was not for lack of trying.
Psychography
Hearing the song of the whale as her dripping hair
whips - the blue dolphin speeds us under the sun-dappled dome;
I cannot perceive beyond this sight,
thoughts more firm than the lair in which we lie trapped.
Modern landscape, hidden by the hoary foam, is my dim illusion.
This rock underfoot melts into the water that washes, flows
encloses our forms - when I believe nothing but to her voice,
Atlantis rose.
Half-awake dreamscapes of his love were scrawled on paper in the morning’s light.
Did I Propose to You Clearly Enough?
Only the fool says there is no God.
She had no sooner withdrawn the blade
than the spurting flood through fuscous flew
to imbrue my days in fading scarlet.
She had no sooner turned her back
and set upon his transient track,
than, anemic I, I blundered forth,
stumbled blind about the dust,
a desert-shouldered, circled pool
of crimson draft carrion drank full.
The moon would not befriend me,
and this blight but cureless golden band
no matter how hard I pulled
would not come off my finger.
As Trilogy notes, "She kissed another and her heart was gone." The poet's world was so shaken, he turned for a time from atheism to religion, for all he once believed had been shattered. So starts the poem. It ends by describing his loss and the years-long burden of deep imprinting from love (his curse).
After Two Months
She haunted him in cyan dreams,
wracked him sprawled on her glowing smile,
touched cool grass by his side in mist,
and loved him under Hecate's rod.
An ancient ferry guided him
to sunlit lands with warming rains,
to be loved once more by elven eyes,
to stitch a rend to cleave again.
His breath beats hours through the night
toward the golden birth of day.
Beneath cold stars he kisses peace
in arms the dawn will bear away.
Like some phantom limb syndrome, she was repeatedly real in his dreams, a joy of reunion to be turned to poison at dawn.
Rhymes with “Tray”
I'm OK
You're OK
The world was born in just six days
I'm OK
You're OK
The NRA gives guns away
I'm OK
You're OK
Don't look beneath the bridge today
Don't ask for what our dollars pay
Don't drink the water from the bay
The TV's on; our minds won't stray
I'm OK and you're OK
Do we know where our children play?
Do memories of sin replay?
But I'm OK, and you're OK
So won't you stop and talk, and stay?
Or do you fear the time delay?
Did you read mad Ted's essay?
Beijing will wash the square in May
And why did Custer lose his way?
Was he OK? Could he still pray?
But I'm just fine
for you reclined and swilled my whine
Yes, really, I'm OK
I just don't know where Cobain lay
The men with shovels wouldn't say
Mid-90's grunge. Graduate school. He had not seen her for years. He was married (see Once Upon a Time quartet in Tome of Stars to understand that tragic mistake). He had a child. And yet, no matter how much he lied to himself and others, he was still caught by her filigree net. The pain of it over time brought some bitterness, stirred into the despair of watching the madness of the world play out about him.
The Judge Dismisses Jeremy
Come as you are, wry Jeremy,
and I will come to you as me?
And we will sit and face a glass
that shadows both realities.
My Lancelot! My trusted friend,
I found one eve I like your dress.
I walked unhurt a thoughtless night.
|I kissed the brown-haired poetess.
But Peter! Peter! Was I mad?
Did my knife inflict much pain?
I did not twist it. No indeed!
Within one month the blade was freed!
I never knew what scars were had.
So, do you touch the moon at night,
and whisper to each solemn star?
Does a shadow dim each light
those times your heart glances too far?
Do you but sigh when loss consumes
because you bear no poet's curse?
Would you take my battered heart
and kiss Christ's alter? Or do worse?
No matter, now the Court adjourns.
The prosecutor bows his head.
The Judge dismisses Jeremy
and I convict myself instead.
The poet put his close friend on trial. The friend who had kissed his love away from him. Double betrayal. But in the end, the poet convicts himself for his own flaws.
Returning Home
A haunted valley will this land remain
as echoes without sleeping pace and fret.
It seems four years cannot remove the pain -
gold filigree entangles as a net.
Whose face shines back, what lives within my soul,
and how may I avoid this well-worn path?
How deep the scars? The Ring, what toll?
What wicked weaving is this bitter wrath?
My days are haunted, memories cut most,
her smiles like knives tormenting without ruth.
I gaze so ignorant across the coast
tormented, grasping sand to find the truth:
Does this tip float without an iceberg near?
For all that flowed between, where were her tears?
The land possessed a palpable haunting when he returned years later.
Goodnight, Sweet Sara
Dream you hear this
Hope you aren't hurt
Pray you'll love
One kind day
Had a journey
Still on the journey
You're at a start
You're at an end
Don't understand try
Don't hate what God shaped
The reason's etched in sand
The Wind consoles it
The Rains condone it
A curious golden band
Goodnight, sweet Sara
Don't know where
When hurt and loss and despair fall away in fatigue, all that is left is a broken affection.
Stained Glass
Fifteen... yeah
Fifteen years
Still your chains
And I walked
Across a campus
One cyan day
But there were stars
Stars in that sky
And a dancing fey
Re-wrote my life
And only then
Blue-eyed nymph
Your spell broke
Like stained glass
Freeing saints
And I turned
To the Stargirl's
Unequaled Light
This is a new poem from 2026, written to link the old collections of poetry, this first relationship in the poet's life covered in First Love, to Tome of Stars, itself. Just as the song narrates, for fifteen years he was still committed in heart to the "blue-eyed nymph," until a power far, far greater descended from the heavens and "rewrote his life."
The poem is minimalist and the musical version intentionally so as well. The poet simply states the facts: "15 years still your chains." He goes about his daily life, one day of a week of a month of a year for fifteen years. It is a "cyan" day, not because it is sunny, but symbolically, the color tied to the nymph (her startling eyes of blue repeatedly appearing in the verse in this album). It signifies his reality is still shaped by his emotional ties to her, no matter what else is happening around him or the choices he makes (career, "walked across a campus", self-and-other-betraying attempts to be normal and have a family, etc).
But this day is a life rupture: "But there were Stars. Stars in that sky." The dominating essence of his reality for the first time in fifteen years is overwhelmed by another reality. One that is more powerful, breaking through that "cyan sky".
Of course, in none of Stargazer's later poetry do stars show up haphazardly. And the next line is "And a dancing Fey." The stars come with the dancing Stargirl, "fey" a term to place her also in the magical world that he cannot understand or control and which has power over him (like the "blue-eyed" nymph). This calls back to a lot of verse in Tome of Stars painting the Stargirl in transcendent tones, even with identical terms in some poems, e.g., Smile:
She lit the underground, a grinning fey,
Transforming shadowed corners with starshine.
And immediately, the poem declares the fey "rewrote my life." This calls back to the First Sight and Starstruck poems, where the day the poet first became aware of the Stargirl, he was immediately impacted and altered.
In this case, the poem is showing a powerful and immediate transition. Fifteen years of "cyan skies" shatters like "stained glass" "freeing saints." This is imagery from the poet's many years in religious houses of worship where saints are frozen in colored glass for the faithful to see. He never realized until this verse came out of him that he harbored some sort of sense of imprisonment from it all.
Thus the hold his first love had on him was unmade as her "spell broke." But the poet is not really freed. In fact, he is now bound even deeper to another as he "turns to the Stargirl's unequaled light."
Psychoanalyze away. Product of maternal abuse? Random aspects of brain wiring? Nature and anti-nurture synergy? Whatever. This is the kind of person he is, a deep programming that therapists, time, life experience, prayers, psychedelic drugs, and self-delusion could not and cannot alter.
This poem acts as the bridge from one long chapter of his life to another. Very likely, barring another miracle, the last chapter of his life, ironically, lived similarly because of his and his beloved's flaws, much like that of First Love: longing, chained, and powerless, yet knowing a strength in accepting one's nature, even as it destroys you and renders one's life and its meaning to "diamond dust."