“You Are the Corner of my Eye”

This Sunday morning a few days before I turn 63,  I am sharing my favorite poem, a love poem that Thomas Robert Higginson wrot for me, “You Are the Corner of my eye”

In my romance Novel, “New Kiss Horizon” as ” A Trip to the Tienda”:


You are the corner of my eye

              By Thomas Robert Higinson


                   for Thylias

You are my rent-a-poem

You are love jungle — Yoyo, hula hoop!

You are my closing costs

My plasma vibrator my single malt

You? You are my Tampa manatee

You are my Occupy

You are an eucalyptus octopus

And a haircut on an autumn day

Also submarine. Surreality check.

You you…! You YOU you!

That’s who. The Temple of Shenanigans,

AKA Shenanigan Temple.

The complete works. The leftovers.

You are what I’ve been waiting for

And now I’ll never wait anymore.

Dream baby, you are, and indefatigable,

That, too. And you are the cream in my coffee,

And you are the one, and you are my everything,

And you are everything I could hope for.

And still you are more, and still you keep coming,

You are coming like a river, like a torrent,

Like an all day-lollipop where every day is today.

You are the Castle of Doubt on the Plain of Forgetfulness.

You are one more and able to laugh it off.

My sunshine, that’s what you are.

A rocking chair and a band-aid. Violin castanets.

An elusive perfume. You are all history. You are

Breakfast and you are on your way and all

I can do is list, name, and hand out passports.

Because you are who you are in a way that is all

Your way and which, as a poet trying to set it down,

Failure, I am a failure in that you will always be

Something to me both bedrock and ineluctable,

A passion of opposition and an unchecked probity

Of Probability and yet a chemical formula not to be

Tested. The Higgs bosun, that’s it exactly. A gluon.

A ramshackle melody. A forgotten memory that

Never happened and when all is said and done,

Actually nothing was said and nothing was done.

That’s why I keep writing endlessly penning, because that’s

Who you are and when I stop, Surprise, you are

The surprise, you are the inching to the summit,

The chocolate razor, the tadpole’s pole and the

Gate to the Fields of the Lord. I sing you praises and

The answer is more like a light fog saxophone, a

Kingdom Come revelation, a hunch that blossoms

To birth a new species. An appointment for lunch.

Some nectar in a tube, a pillow. Like the new language you

Are, if I could write that I would, you in a race car,

A pendulum, a fire tower, a blimp. A pothole, narcissus,

An a capella cantabile, a big bucket of milk. I can run alongside

You but can’t keep up with you, your tapdancing

Shadow, your clothing made of earth and spit. But I know you

And when you wish me Happy Birthday I trade it for yours,

You not growing old, you everlasting, you infinity you.

Higginson Street (by Nancy Boutilier)

I thought you’d like this photo that I took in Salem, MA As you probably know the Rev. Francis Higginson joined the Massachusetts Bay Company to form a “plantation” in New England. Higginson led a group of about 350 Puritan settlers (including many of his own congregation) on six ships from England to New England. His son, Rev. John Higginson was a leading investigator in the Salem witch trials of 1692–1693…oh, and there were others… Enjoy the pics.

(photo by Nancy Boutilier)

Cream in my coffee

and here is the response poem I wrote to his poem, forhcoming in Black Renaissance Noir:

A First Response to “A Trip to the Tienda”[i]


for Thomas Robert Higginson



My alpha and omega poem

braided into my hair


that falls into the poem like breezes,

that falls into you

acrobatic atmospheres


homecoming, prom


this poem


these bosons of alphabet


form my prom, my graduation,


valedictory address, where I live now, really


live, as if for the first time


(inside you)


my sense of direction, elevation


slow home-cooked meal


—poetry food —


indulgence, cure for every disease


including religion: church of me,


apron, radon shield,


spikes of hair, double helixes of braids,

words of the poem expand, latch


onto proteins of my hair, food poetry


chromosomes of a new child incubating


in margins: complete peptides


perfect matches, IDEAL genetic codes


pearls, apologies, endless apologies


to the fine poet who wrote this


for me, my doppelgänger —


my poetry food,

nourishment, sustenance, one-a-day,

one every day


each of your arms is a stanza,

each hair on your body is punctuation


:placing us together:


compass needles pointing to lovers,


science of poetry,


Thomas Higginson becoming true north


somehow resisting magnetic north


to be

my gateway to bliss


kept for too long undercover.


This monument


this testament


is forever, and acted out religiously,




and perfectly


in a single windy city weekend


[i] Published, in slightly different form in Black Renaissance Noir

” edited by Quincy Troupe.

A little early for  Valentine’s Day, 

but here are the poems anyway; may they inspire you.  I must say that I remain inspired by Thomas Robert’s poem. Always.   And I am always Dream Baby.  No matter what. 


Link to “New Kiss Horizon” on Smashwords:


Link to “New Kiss Horizon” paperback on Amazon:


Link to “New Kiss Horizon” Kindle book on Amazon:


Link to Thylias Moss Amazon writer page:


Vashtis Blog (narrator of NKH, maintaining a blog so that readers may keep in touch with developments in the character’s life beyond the book):

Vashti’s blog URL:



NKH Review by Thomas Robert Higginson”

NKH is a miracle of consciousness in a body formed by the future.” —Thomas Robert Higginson

(he is a real man; not purely a prodcuct of dreams, even though I do dream about him.  He is Dream-worthy material.) 

NKH Review by Bhaskar Mukherjee:

“craft that blends courage, candor and pathos in such a marvelous way”

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