Today when I was on a run, I looked down. I looked down and saw dozens of little bugs.

Each scurrying under my feet trying desperately to get out of my way.

Can bugs scream?

If they can, I didn't hear them.

Today when I was on a run, I looked down and saw dozens of little bugs and wondered how many I'd stepped on in my life without noticing.

Today when I was on a run, I looked down and saw dozens of little bugs and wondered-

Is that what you forgot to do with me?
Did you forget to look down?

It is over now.
I bow my head as you leave,
Rain fills your footprints.

I am completely alone.
Even threw out the cat.  
She'll just hide under the stairs and
Hope the randy male farm cat

Is in the woods. I unplug all
Appliances to **** any buzzing.
The silence is a mass in my ears.
I only hear birds. The swallows I

Love. Doves and crows. Sparrows
And a dusin unknown to me.
This is the "Off" in Time Off.

Feet so high I don't even
Think to drink.
Complete balance.

Like some future samurai
Zen master.
Unfearing of anything.

Scandinavian summer
Paradise.
Norwana.

It is Spring, and of course,
I love her madly!
But our lips will never meet!
I will never hold her gently in my arms,
Never touch her soft body with mine.
And it is, sadly,
Better that we won't!

Yet I have already touched her heart,
As she has, mine,
So many times before,
That we often live
Inside each others hearts.
And sometimes,
We beat as one.

Alas, we will never make love,
Our bodies will never be entwined,
As one, in passion's embrace,
To give what lovers give,
To take what lovers take.
She is not for me,
She is destined for another.
And I, to step aside.

Yet our spirits are sometimes united,
Like the light from two candles,
That becomes inseparably infused,
Impossible to separate,
Whenever their flames
Are held together
As one.

I have no regrets!

I sell for a living.
But not the kind of selling
you do at the supermarket
and not the kind you do on the net
but the kind where I give parts of me
to strangers I will never again see.

Strangers like the boy with the pretty eyes
and the woman shedding tears
and the gentleman with many stories.

I give away the parts of me
I think will make others smile
an ear for you sir
and a part of my heart to you madamme
would you like a hand? a dimple?
Let me know because I give it all
and when you leave
don't say goodbye,
let me believe
and dream that one day we will meet again
and you will give those parts back
so I can be whole once again
for the one who would have cared

i was a spark.
you turned me into fire
but since you left me
i am ash.

in writing poetry...
......you are writing
intimate love letters
to the world.


you bare your heart,
soul and .....***** laundry
....for all who care to read.

but there is anonymity
in your intimacy...
and there is ..
the dispensation of .... ....absolution, acquital, emancapation.....
leading to.....
....proclamation, jubilation
and .....discovery of a .... ....different self.

when you put...
words  to paper
.....as  a poet....
you allow the world
access, to your heart
....in times of joy and sorrow
and all the mileposts
..... lying inbetween.



you