Wild child space travel gypsy
       drunk    on     the cosmos
     churning a sensual pattern--
             melting         suns
with a carefree wink
as stars pour into her eyes
like a garnet shiraz
       spiraling
              in    tidal   waves
splashing in a crystal wine glass
     caressing
              her white light lips.

Planets dip and dangle around her hips
as the weight of the nebulous nectar whispers
                                       lullabies to her eyes
         as her incandescent            hair contours
    to copious glistening constellations  
rippling across her tired body
                 like ice dripping on a warm chest
vibrating    indigo       moonlight         jazz
enrapturing millions with her simple act of symphonic yawning
as the dusk light dawning over faces
embraces souls stirring--
her purring hip cat dreams
leave people like us with mouths agape
as her voluptuousness nape hushes
us with a supernova explosion of peace
oscillating between
each of our spirits.

poetry lives
not just in the dreamy glow of the moon
across your lover's eyes
on a perfect evening, or the
mesmerising game of light
and shadows dancing on
moving waters, through
wooded greens;
no,
poetry lives in
the little things you
don't see and don't say:
the sharp edges of heartbreak, the
magnanimity of forgiveness, the
soft sighs of love that
*won't go away.

I spent the night drunk
isn't it gross?
I could have been in your arms
instead
I wrapped my lips in liquor
it all swept me away
funny
you used to do that

Dry your eyes,
Little girl.
Don't let them in.
They're only words.

There, now. There.
It's just a tear.
A raindrop from your  
Atmosphere.

I promise you
Clear skies again.
Brush off your knees.
Arise again.

Dry your eyes,
My little friend.
More things begin
Where others end.

So stand and shine
Despite their words.
They envy you.
Of course it hurts.

Soft s
Hard z
Warring names
Like warring nations
Soldiers in and out of filled
Train stations.

Letters March
Up and down
Filling pages of
Notebooks bought brown
Math was a bite and a bore
English is her light and her lore

She never wrote love stories out loud
Because a twice uttered spell could cause her to drown
Deep in a sea of serpentine slopes
That the people called  loves, dreams and hopes

But she did color with her mind
A clouded sky
Steeped full of orange and pink painted chai
The cup was bitter but sweet
A chance for two lovers to meet
Select all; delete
Now he is gone before she could sleep

Slumber is simple
Unless you are on watch
Watching your watch for another
To stand notching his clock
Never Relieved of duty
her names never ceased fire
The letters are looting
Abased of greed they get their fill
Filled full of slumber and pills

There was never a story so happy or so
Sad
as the one written the day She
Left.
Our coffee kisses tasted like hot chocolate;
Bitterly
sweet because She always added a double shot of
Espresso
and never told me. Her hair was a frazzled
Mess
because we had stayed up too late and slept for far too
Long.
She smelled like my favorite book and her
spine
was just as familiar. The day
Previous
She hugged me until I shook. I think I
Cried
too. That morning her October eyes looked
deadened
by winter. Our season had passed, and now She's
happy.
I wish her well. I always have, but the espresso
stained
my teeth. Her words stained my mind, and She stained my
Soul.

I reach out for your hand but my grip isn't that strong
you wouldn't dare let go of me
and I am here asking you please
stop holding on

Let me fall so I can become stronger on my own
If being alone is what it'll will take
then let the isolation come in thousands
and swallow me alive

I'll make depression look like a fantasy
a never ending storm of chaos
cause nothing could be more destructive than
my own mixture of time and troubled thoughts

And yes you'll try to help me, but I am so far from help
I rather suffer in silence then see the same pain I know in your eyes
so I am asking you for your own sake
to let my hand go, I can do this on my own
... at least I think