what does the utterer give to the prayer?

why is it
that inspiration only befriends me
when happiness has not?

My street blazes orange
the lake hides in misery
the sky is beige
with the fires of a hot world

i liked he
he liked she
she liked he
who liked me

Tired, dry, sick, and yet
the snow has never stuck
so wet
instead, it rains
or snows and melts
forget the muck
the pain is felt
without the Winter to deflect us.

Like the river encircling the boundless world, so too is the depth of the sky, unending, and so too are the waves, a reflection and a window to the holes of our world, bottomless.

Though she was illiterate,
her eyes closed and her mouth opened,
and from her lips sprang melodies that would easily appease Apollo.

and though, I know, the winter comes,
I see the paint upon your thumbs,
the blues and hues of dappled thyme
that scar a world from a nursery rhyme;

and there, written, lightly, in pencil,
a paragraph for a time stenciled,
adjectives and flavoured truth
a place made up for our innocent youth.

You look for me in the stars,
but I am really in the space between.
I am not one star,
but the invisible lines that connect them
that create the constellation.

Two strangers waltz beneath moonlight
where life is full --
swells high with the fish
in midsummer:

...on little nameless rivers or hidden brooks on whose banks Naiads might have sunned their white, wet limbs.

what we love
we let go

what we hold onto
we love

A breath held;
a mollusk in the sea,
its shell
so small and fragile,
overtaken
by the wild ocean in a great, swirling motion.

It will be empty now.

gently, I devour
the music that you play

the strumming and the sway,
the things you can convey

subtle, but the power
of the songs, the silent way

you make the unsaid there
and it becomes

real, authentic, ours.

What is it you want?
Absent-mindedly pick them
to better decide.

you stab incessantly at each other's tires -
deflating heart, body, mind, and soul.

I am selfish
she is selfless

guess who is deprived

pelicans remind the forest
of life beyond the wood

rain falls, sinks into my skin slowly,
pacing down the path with you on the other line.

we talk for too long, but it flows a little seamlessly,
like a new bend in a stream

and we end on a fine note,
a prelude for the next conversation.

she is on a plane now.
the void you've left is now filled with memory:

I think about when we met, out there in the cold,
walking in circles beside each other.
I was trying to be brave but you spoke first.
"Hello."
And then you looked at me and smiled
and my heart imploded.

the winter's first love was spring,
but they lost each other in the fires of July.

after some time,
they became friends

forever

when eurydice fell
down into hell
orpheus wept
stars never slept
for his painful cries
were as pretty as lullabies
but agony pined
in his heartbroken mind.
and when he got a chance
he took one glance
and eurydice fell
back into hell.

do it,
the duet
the one where you turn and I grin and you stop and I spin
and the music never stops and becomes white noise and then one with silence
and when we still the clocks stop but the music never slows

You appear so frail and delicate,
but beneath your pretty petals are your thorns.

in my coffee *** of dreams
where the flowers wilt and die
there are pennies and they gleam
with the light of Luna's eye

apples taste so sweet
like knowledge dripping from teeth
the forbidden fruit

the delight of love:
the pain you cannot surrender
in exchange for forever

soft and tender and sweet
the love we remember
from her

but from him
it is steady and long
and true

like the star
blinking home
always

what is existence?
the mountain's life in mine is so very slow,
but even it sees the same, unending horizon as I do.

She was surrounded in summertime.
Her name was written in the wildflowers and she was surrounded in summertime.

i am the pollen of a poisonous flower;
carried by bee
made into honey
collected by keepers;
unintentional reaper.

a bouquet would consist of the flowers you love,

so I will tumble into the ditch, where all the marsh marigolds bloom for you.

I went in
the water was cool and healing
at first.
I saw the moon cry into her reflection,
she tried desperately to pull the tides away.
But foolish me;
I swam out,
practically asking the ocean to drown me,
I loved her cool caress on my skin.
My skin was like a midnight sky
full of stars.
I was lucky.
When I washed up on shore the next morning
I found out I was drunk on salt
and
the ocean left a desert of it out there.

all the current needs is flow

nothing I can do, except
fall in love with you, and then
I'll be stuck inside the luck
of having you pretend that
you love me and you want me
even though you taunt me
nothing more could please me
if you would just believe me
I'm drowning in suppression
and I think I need suggestions
for I might just fall instead of fight
but give me wings and I'll take flight

I am unsure of who I am
and afraid of what I want

I love
I will try to better

in the spring,
apples never fall
and in the fall,
blossoms never bloom

I wonder,
do birds love each other,
or is it just a people thing?