What I want is a traveller.
No, not even a traveller who goes the further distance, for the longest time.
Just one who will be willing to cover miles and spend endless seconds with me.
What I want is a thinker.
No not even the deepest or the wildest of spectrum.
Just one who’ll broaden mine.
What I want is a fighter.
No not even the strongest, toughest or best at battle.
Just one day who won’t allow me to forget the purpose of fighting.
What I want is a believer.
But no, not one of little.
But one who’ll crack perspectives, defy gravity, induce love, dance in storms and build dams in deserts.

My tired heart revives
when Fall arrives
and Summer dies.
Yeah, it comes back to life
at least part-way, sometimes.
               So paint me
               red and gold
       and washed-out green
                  in sunset.

The year seeks sleep
                              I'm piling leaves.
A breeze on evening,
                              Autumn flesh.
October's weary, ragged breaths
time out these restless, rustling footsteps.

               I can smell the solemn things
               the dying year would say to me
               if it could force its sibilant wind
                                into shape--
--if it could speak in consonance
to my own alliterative silence
and I could keep beats
               as stresses released:
"Where were we          when water froze
for the first time          in the fast waning warm?"

I seek out the sanguine;
                              I've been too combustible.
                              But I'm finally comfortable
with speaking dead language
with tongue all languid.
                               Let languish
cloying heat and raise bumps
               on the skin of my arm
                       like you did
                   when I was four,
playing alone in the rain in the Langleys' yard.

Held up under heavy arms,
buoyed by cool Autumn breath,
I found a way to quiet alarms in my
                              chest
           when I was 27...

Nothing's ever real red gold
except for in the Fall.
So guild me slow and let me go
               if all you've got
               are Summer arms.

I fell asleep
and trusted my soul to keep
but then I entered a lush garden
which I entered without a pardon
over at the far end
yes just around the bend
was a women standing
on a marble landing
her back was turned to me
and I could see
snakes in her hair
yet her skin was quite fair
and she had quite a nice derrière
I turned to flee
but that's just not me
she had the snake hair thing
but I heard that wow could she sing
a lonely broken hearted song
about so many things that were wrong
I looked again
around that bend
in addition to the skin, voice and ---
her body had more curves then a racetrack
so adapting my best tack
I picked some red flowers
by the big ivory tower
and walked up to her and bent on one knee
presenting the flowers I said see
this is for you
because your song was sad and true
she turned and said arghh now you turn to stone
but instead I said I do not wish to spurn
but stone is not really my thing
I can show you my yo-yo on a string
or perhaps juggling maybe a little mime
I can do many wonderful things if you have the time
so she pulled out a gun
suprised I said no no thats no fun
then I looked as cute as I could
and stayed as still as wood
I don't understand she said why you don't attack me
you are a hero and I am hideous can't you see
I said nah handing her the flowers
you are quite beautiful here by your tower
I would rather take you out for coffee and cake
so I leave the rest of the story out for you to make
;)

If you want to believe,
all you have to do is,
find the reasons why