Salvage Operation...

Salvage Operation...

The spin was large it created gravity,

A vortex of soulless mean,

Frozen in the bloody dirt,

Splashing pavement and doors.

Yet no spin is equal to a black hole,

They've fallen in,

Though the event horizon's time distortion...

...feels like forever for them to fall,

Inevitably,

Inexorably,

No escape.

After the Spring and Summer,

We must pull our ragged souls out of the closets,

Dust them and wash them with love,

Begin the salvage operation,

Build a time to warm the heart again.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 01-31-2026

Per l'amore di Torrone e Biscotti...

Per l'amore di Torrone e Biscotti...

I was raised on these things, 

In the long, long shadow of Lady Liberty's torch, 

A blessing from when the poetry of Ellis Island was still felt by American hearts. 

The soft, 

Delicate, 

Incandescent flavors, 

The intentional lingering aftertaste, 

A sip of coffee melts generational wealth in your mouth. 

My childhood was truly rich, 

In ways that gold couldn't touch, 

In flavors I pray survive, 

The blender of cultures we were once proud to be, 

I can eat three years old right out of a $10.00 box. 

My delight in a new-found Italian market is an echo, 

One best shared. 

Love is best in a broad pallette of colors, 

We can't bleach ourselves into greatness. 

Greatness comes from our ability to master synthesis, 

Without losing the lustrous flavor of a torrone. 

From soul food and blues,

To ebelskieves and runes, 

Or the lustrous Friday night fish, 

Our hodgepodge is the best stewpot. 

E pluribus unum, 

That is greatness. 

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford 

© 05/30/2025

Love Zone...

Love Zone... 

You're in my love zone,

This ain't a friend zone,

I believe in you,

Know this is true,

Baby you never have to be alone,

You're in my love zone,

More than just this song,

No matter how long.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 11/28/2019

#Love

A Season Of Fire...

Post by AquarianM on Jan 9, 2010 at 7:07am

A Season Of Fire...

In the mist of distant memories you dance,
Twirling on a pedestal I know should be burned to the ground,
Bedazzling and life-like though you are more a china doll,
Though exquisite in detail not real,
The memory of my deepest blush,
Object of obsessive worship,
Where I fell to the darkest cold depths of frozen Hell,
In the aftermath of encountering the reality,
Of loving and living with you.

Despite the fire in eyes of cinnamon,
Despite your hair down,
Despite the platinum sweet of my tongue,
I couldn't satisfy your twisted fires,
I was a square peg - by nature not nurture,
There was no way I could learn what you needed me to be,
Because just knowing isn't enough.

I remember the Heaven of you in the soft crush of my arms,
Only for one Summer,
All my life I'll carry a torch I can't put out,
Giving my love honestly somewhere else,
Tormented and blessed,
By the memory of a season of fire.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 01/09/2010

Artists’ Card Project – Ace Of Hearts

Working on a project with 54 other artists, mostly from the Madison, WI area, to create a deck of cards. I picked the Ace of Hearts as my card. Here’s the final artwork version.

Keep looking up,

Dan

Click to enlarge pic

He flashes through clouds and vapors,

Ducking birds on the wing,

Scarf whipping in the prop-wash,

A race with Cupid to be won,

For there in his sights lies the most tender target,

A beating lonely heart,

Wishing and hoping for just that one shot,

The one that ends it all,

In a flash of ever-after joy,

He tips the stick forward and dives for it,

Goggles gleamingly clear,

He pulls the trigger on love,

Raining it down from on high,

A bubble that can’t be burst,

Not even by the light of day.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 2014 Poetry & artwork.

​
Dan Stafford November 9, 2014

Silent As A Stone...

Silent As A Stone...

I never knew silence,
Could be so blue.

I never knew that nothing,
Would come from you.

Every time I try to speak,
Or to even sing,
You break my tune.

Some kind of instinct,
Some sad power play,
Something I don't quite understand,
What makes you act this way?

I never knew silence,
Could be so blue.

I never knew that nothing,
Would come from you.

Every time I try to speak,
Or to even sing,
You break my tune.

If I wrote you a love poem,
You'd dis that too,
It's something I've already,
Watched you do.

When we're with friends,
You shut me up,
Ask me why,
I don't communicate,
It's so late,
My turn,
Never came up.

I never knew silence,
Could be so blue.

I never knew that nothing,
Would come from you.

Every time I try to speak,
Or to even sing,
You break my tune.

I wonder,
Oh,
I wonder if,
The Universe,
Maybe put you up to this,
You like to keep me silent,
Silent as a stone,
Inside my head,
Locked up,
And all alone.

I never knew silence,
Could be so blue.

I never knew that nothing,
Would come from you.

Every time I try to speak,
Or to even sing,
You break my tune.

Silent as a stone,
Inside my head and locked up,
All alone.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/23/2017

The Bean Diet...

The Bean Diet...

Bean burritos,
Three kinds,
Only a buck forty-nine.

Red beans and rice,
Maybe an apple,
Would be nice.

Wallet may be thin,
Yet somehow,
We'll win.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/15/2017

"Rembrandt Sleeping..." Poem #29

Sartia's Halo Polish...

Sartia's Halo Polish...

Even halos get dulled,
Centuries of flights in all weather,
Missions of mercy and constant scenes of agony,
The acid in an angel's tears pits even the best materials,
And the corrosion of the soul facing death,
Time after time after time,
Followed by the healing expansion of spirit,
The one you get in the joy of a miracle delivered,
The flowery scent of tears of joy,
When a mother sees her child cry away near death,
Surviving with no longer fevered little curls,
Still damp with the sweat of fate,
Sartia's hands have always been brave,
As she scrubs the crags of woe from their halos,
As each touch brings a flash of the visions,
The sight of what the Heavenly host have borne,
As Sartia rinses them with martyrs' blood,
And tears of requited love,
Under God's golden moonlight,
In her little garden world of pale roses,
Her blue eyes are ancient,
And her soft face is ever young,
As the shaken hug her in mutual comfort,
Their halos returned after each brief respite,
Their crushing weight for a time lifted,
She cries but softly in her state of gentle grace.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 12/18/2001


From Poetic Constellations:
Jan Awards this ROTD 11/23/11

Dusty Old Letters From Tesla...

Dusty Old Letters From Tesla...

You can see the genius in the handwriting,
Meticulously cluttered,
Like an attic closet lost for a century.

The dry must is blown off the yellowed envelopes,
All eyes widen with delight.

Back in the day,
It was known as "correspondence,"
Hand-written and soul-bared.

The wonders of the Universe,
Revealed,
Wax seals that had partly re-stuck,
Grudgingly giving up their sleeping secrets.

It was all tales of love,
Love with a mystical beauty un-bound by our petty rules,
Cosmos was her name.

Nicola gave us an adoring view under her skirts.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/11/2017

Rembrandt Sleeping, poem #26

A Highly-Charged Particle...

A Highly-Charged Particle...

The stress of the pennies,
They don't rain from Heaven.

A bucket of marital bliss,
Wrapped in a dollar-sign bow.

The wires buzz and hum.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07/08/2017

Rembrandt Sleeping, poem #24

Good Night Maine Coon...

Good Night Maine Coon...

Orange ball of purring,
Fuzzy good-night.

A heart the size of California,
My buddy Corona.

Who needs words,
When you can head-butt and purr?

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 07-06-2017

A Matter Of Focus...

A Matter Of Focus...

What I say,
What I see,
Large-looming things I water in the garden of my life.

It maters little if I despise them,
Not a whit if I wish to uproot,
Nor love and cherish,
The flowers or weeds I speak to will grow.

All the World should pay attention,
Give that payment to the flowers,
For the weeds grow so easily.

It's really all a matter of focus.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 06/19/2017

Inscribed In Stone...

Inscribed In Stone...

Words are everything.

Read it again;
Words are everything.

They make us.
They break us.
They echo us to the future,
Long after our dust is eaten by Earth.

When we are stars,
Shining in the depths of night,
Words give voice to our silent light.

See and remember,
See and hear,
If you can read the stars,
Inscribed in stone.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/20/2016

For our stars gone to the sky.

*Side note: We just had to put down our 19-year old cat. He was a very mellow and intelligent guy, and of course a total foodie. Indy, you get a star up there too, old man. 

Even The Tiniest Place Needs The Sun...

Even The Tiniest Place Needs The Sun...

Ah, the gifts of muses,

To hear their call is to see life with a poet's eyes,

That permanent magnifying glass,

The very air in front of your sight,

It bends time and space,

Makes them pull on your heart in such a way,

Such a way indeed.

You who read me often know it;

A flower never moves,

Nor the blade of grass worshiping at its root,

Unlike the dog,

Or the butterfly,

The world is a small place for a tree or flower,

Not much less for the spider who weaves,

A web for just one season amidst its leaves.

This world has almost lost its flowers,

Might never notice a blade of grass,

But for the sight of poets,

Like fairies and elves,

The small world would be lost.

This then is the true gift of the Muses,

To bring sunlight to the existence of every little thing,

To bring depth and meaning to each moment,

So that all of life receives just enough hurrah,

For attention and love fuel this universe.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

© 10/12/2016

The She-Devil Of Hanover Pit...

The She-Devil Of Hanover Pit...

I can't believe it!
She bought me a speedo one size too small,
Took me out to Hanover on a sunny week day.

This old gravel pit has a beautiful beach,
And a solid thirty-foot cliff to leap from,
And now it has her.

She caught me by the broken heart strings,
Near twin to my first love,
But love wasn't what she wanted to pull,
No - I wouldn't call it exactly that.

I was just over nineteen,
She maybe the same,
Only the two of us and her little sister,
The beach all to ourselves.

All hands and no modesty,
She wanted to show me off,
Took me past caring about being a trophy,
My only relief to dive in,
Too late for staring eyes.

Oh,
I could tell you stories about that one,
Oh,
I could indeed,
But I want you to live.

Nineteen hundred and eighty-two was an interesting year.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C) 10/07/2016

Author's note:
True story. Like any good story, there's a LOT more to it. I couldn't help it, Goldenmyst tossed my Muse right back into my personal gutter! Lol

Better Ways...

Better Ways...

I hear a ticking drumbeat that calls me in the night,

To an other-world,

A place of soft blue light.

All the world places shallow dreams there,

Jokes and screaming and the great salty mind of Humanity,

Raw and yet guarded,

A cesspool full of kittens,

Dreams of the stars spun around dreams of Armageddon.

Then there is this soft place,

An old green garden,

A place where dreams are pinned to the walls,

And our ghosts speak plainly to us,

Everything they ever said at our fingertips.

If I am so driven to pour pieces of my soul into the aether,

I feel that this is a better way.

AquarianM

By: Daniel A. Stafford

(C) 10/06/2016

--
Compassion is the greatest sign of Humanity.

She Speaks Yinglish, He Speaks Yanglish...

She Speaks Yinglish, He Speaks Yanglish...

A wise man once sang that love is all you need,
A lot of it indeed.

Did I ever tell you I worked for a communications company?

Twenty-one point five years in fact,
Connecting all corners of the globe,
Data and voice as far as Antarctica,
As near as down the street.

I wonder how many trillion words are spoken each year,
Trying to get across the great divide?

"Turn left, turn right, do the dishes tonight."

To quote the fabulous Joan Jett,
"Do you wanna touch,
Do you wanna touch,
Do you wanna touch me there,
Where,
There,
Yeah?"

Exactly where that center in the male/female brain is,
The one that gets the exact image and emotion I mean,
To be recognized and understood.

Twenty minutes is forever,
Only to find you've both said the same thing,
All unknowingly.

Thankfully we have a lotta love,
To make things turn out right.

"No, go left here!!"

AquarianM

(C) 09/28/2016
By: Daniel A. Stafford