Your lips-
the doorway to that special place
I have made my home.
There's nowhere I feel safer than
beneath the roof of your tongue,
within the walls of your mouth.
We store our treasured memories
in the attic and
house the butterflies in the basement.
At last,
I am home.

We have survived the
Storm of falling
In love the smell
Of apple and lilies and
Brown sugar fresh
On your mouth and you
Half
Asleep there is
Something blooming in the
Sweet moss of your hips
Wet with patience and wild
Joy that is your body
Made new in love the last
Of night’s
Milky fingers I pull the sheets
Up to your shoulders
And dream
We are
Young again
Stars
Just a little before dusk

If I had a penny
for all the lies
                  you told.

I'd melt them down,
   and shoot you in
the knee cap...

Who says pennies are worthless...

every one becomes having long tail
trying not to get *****
wanting to throw away
or hide it at any way

trying to be silent
covering your nose
and do also with mouth

as the world does not bear
your breath
if you still go on that road
which was not faith and had bad fault

expecting the worst comes
and the world will wish you to be absent

~for r, just because~


put her in my mouth and she became my
mouth.

put myself inside her and she became my
insides out.

spill good words on her belly, licked & laced us together, then came my 
poetry.

on elbow, she claimed coauthor-ship, demanded her name above        
          mine.


I smiled, answering most matter-of-factly,
surely they’re your creations, you-a-ruler, procreator, foremost, first,

the ABCedarian

the muse goddess of alphabets, all that is poetic divine mistress to
thousands

I’m mortal,
your transcriber, copyist, alphabetically seconded, merest mere,

the ABEcedarian

I’m rudimentary without you, lost midst the masses o’poets nameless.

She snorted, said
“sounds like poetic ******* to me”*
but returned to her sleepy heaven,
mumbling most contentedly.