Happiness isn’t
pulling a slot machine
with the woman you have...

Being pulled
into the slot of
and
by the woman you can’t have

Is where happiness
away from the machine...
lies

Tonight
out west,
above and locked inside a transparent captivity of clouds
sank a sleeping and almost completely burnt sun
I watched this fire, fall into your townlet
with a hopeful feeling of synchronization
Could have been the direction
my eyes out cast
giving cause to this overdue emotion
to be spoken
Or
my ability to place  
your human wonder
at the center of any setting
without borders
On your legs
crossed over lap
poetry pad
accompanied by the Ticonderoga
you write with
Not forgetting to mention
A perfect pile of tossed up hair
half fallen
the other locked in a clip
And of course a pair of dreamed about eyes
watching simultaneously with mine
into the skies
of where we might both see
patiently
the day close out
turning grey light haze for when night time comes around
to give all the crowd under it
a soothe
Where yawning is allowed
Leading us to a bed
to sleep away this now downhill day
for some shut eye
drop out

When you come to my thoughts
You are none other than the billowy embodiment of a reminiscent memory
and also a current everlasting longing
You are the memory of a being or idea
one can feel and remember vividly
but can not zero in on,
for you are the intangible
the winding wind
You are those spiraling twines that place intermittent along grapevines
You are the ancient scrolls from wise days before paperback
You are the spin in the reaching center of a handcrafted wreath
And within all these
individualities and collective,
Lies your scent comprised of multiple scents
You are the mighty togetherness
Your arrival to earth escaping from birth  
gave these words to the minds of the kind
You are the winding wind who spins and twines, wreathes and scrolls who lands from time to time and when you do drop for a spell
This location of harboring landfall
is a day of new tradition,
the first step you take on new land on that new day
Becomes the origin of a new holiday
In my thoughts you are the mortar of the earth