an insect
dropped on my hand
I am not sure what it is
the size of a grain of rice
with wings
I have seen these things
all of my life
I let it live
it is a friend of mine
neither it or I
mean any harm
it heads up arm
only to reach my elbow
then jump off
then fly away

I am content sitting here
on my back porch
alone
staring at the stars
that blanket over my home
I do not need
to be seen
to be known
I am around
all types of friends
things that fly
and things that build
webs between tree limbs
or things that crawl
around my feet
their colors are beautiful
and I cherish the comfort
they seem to have around me
there is no love
that could compete
with the love
that mother nature brings

I used to think romantic love
were the only love to be real
then as I become older
I believe romantic love
does not exist
those pretty girls
are like the insects
an equal part of
the same world
that I live in

the same feeling
you get from a kiss
is the same feeling
you get when you bond
with a friend
or when you see a dandelion
take flight into the wind
scattering
only to land
and you know
it will begin again

a garden of flowers
rows of various colors
a planet of life
lands of various colors
blending together
as they will always do so
forever

my hands have touched many others
my bare feet have trampled many a clover
my soul is kin to many others
my heart has had many a lover

I would live this life twice over
and over
and over
and over

everyone is a flower
and every flower dies
the petals fall
the stem dries
and after some days
there are more of the same you, alive
adding your own kind of beauty to this life

every night could be the night
that I leave this place
my body will grow into an oak tree
yielding thousands of acorns
and when they fall, I'll become a forest

there's a body within the light of the moon
a woman with her hair like heavy rain on sand dunes
she climbs into my bed and hums a tune
of every song I've always listened to
to carry me on through what ever I'm going through

every night, she returns with blindness
over everything somber and desolate
she holds a candle at the memories I have
and I can see the truth and feel the intellect
I learn to live in the moment
and find the love in anyone who holds it
she comes whenever I ask
and one day I will follow her back

I sleep sound and amused
I'm withered but not abused
she always seems to save the day
by returning in the night to take me away

there is an angel on the couch
a special kind of sacred
I am afraid to touch for the risk of breaking
a soul as wise as it aching
I will tread slow and safely
with myself on my sleeve
I can only hope she comes to me

there is an angel on the couch
I can see her spirit vibrating through her skin
she is squirming
hoping no one will notice
but earlier
outside
one of her feathers took off with the wind
and I am the only one who seen it

there is an angel on the couch
and I am a man too shy to open my mouth
failing to display my wittiness and sincerity
the vessels I use to send my love out
but I am floating, vulnerable in the sea
with the over whelming fear that I might drown

there is an angel on the couch
with a stereo and collection of cds
of people I know about
I chose a song
and as it song started
I sat back down unnoticed

"I hear a voice..."

there is angel on the couch
with her eyes closed and moving around
with her hands in the air
disrupting the sloth like clouds
she is in perfect sync with the sound

I am staring down at my knees
just wandering
around in my head
trying to remember to breathe
I am high beyond all reasoning
and the angel gives me an unfamiliar feeling
just sitting there on the couch
still not sure she can see completely see me
I am just a simple mortal peasant
and she has earned beautiful white wings
then without hesitation
I leave
and still, to this day
the reason escapes me

I am the branch
and you are the leaf
our souls are two ants
heading for our tree
on their way to you
by crawling on me
you are the destination
and I am the journey

ghosts live in both of our delicate hearts
in a room with padlocked doors
we have swept up thoughts of them
like dust on a hardwood floor
tossing them out
and thinking of them nevermore

a star fell in my yard that night
unannounced and unnoticed
you were staring at my eyes
I may have seemed unfocused
but I felt you the whole time
the feeling consumed both of us
and then we killed the house lights

I seen the mark of the beast
in the reflection of the sunlight in her hair
as she sat between my legs facing away from me
on a blanket I laid upon the ground
and the sudden breeze freaked me out
she changed things without making a sound

from outside of my body
I watched her morph into my greatest burden
and I was sitting there doing nothing
just like a good little german
as if I am secretly jewish
and she has already started the burning
but she knows who I am
and she forced me to show her
over and over again

she was like a little feline friend
running her hand of knives across my skin
fighting through my thorny ribs
she plucked out a black little berry
and I watched as the juice stained her lips
leaving me as vacant as I have ever been
and the mind of myself I found myself in

I know now what I did not know back then
that I would stay the same but never be the same again
the sound of a light switch could trigger
a three day alcohol ******
that would end with the contour of my face
pressed into my car fender
those were strange days I wish I could return to sender
or at the least not remember

to her no harsh thought is thrown
instead I build shrines for her in my head
she became places that I go
curse my photographic memory
for this is a very scenic road