you want me
you trust me                                  you'll even say you love me

to let down the veil, that you persist
for me to be your buddy
so you can keep it  hung above me

like a child you say, let me hang it up ---> xoxo    Rae
come on it'll be great :-)

I can see your face, but you try to look away

but its hard not to stare because you see yourself
standing there

Toro- Toro                      This bull is color Blind

you can wave your flag but your *** will meet the sky

but you can take your *** home, im turning every stone
knock over your tombstone
take a closer look
so I can show you where skeletons go.

tundra icicles
cut my heart open wide -

can't pretend
this wasn't what I signed up for
when I ran in here
after you.

i slipped you some matches
when you weren't looking
and watched you light up again,
while I just sat there

in unfamiliar territory
rolling around
on my big girl wheels,
determined to sneak you
a pair of telling eyes
as soon as no one
was watching.

i should've known better

than to bring you
a stolen vision,
as if i hadn't already learned
of the subjective quest -

i'm just trying to
help you see

what the matches were for.

in mild november every tree seems red
these maples blazing with unhidden fires
in briefest glory as the day expires
while winter is to come with heavy tread
but not just yet and while clouds overhead
cluster like doom the birds sit on the wires
and do not worry the winds may be liars
while changing seasons don't occasion dread
meanwhile we wonder at the changing scene
at who will be our neighbours and how plain
the day shall be with no leaves on the lawn
but nothing matters while the grass is green
and we have shelter from the chilling rain
with guarantee of sleep until the dawn

By the window
I looked up
Quite alone
And whispered to the currents
What a miraculous shade of sky

How does passion ignite the days
Of the year, and flowers of the rain?
My offering to some is a fellowship,
Into many days of the year, that are rays.
They'd shine for you like capsized boats,
Hollering like monkeys in quicksand.
The day strongly empowers the night
With verses of young damage.
What monster's police this country?
I see verses and symbols of a long time
Going into my heart as one sign.
One makes a man seem in trouble
When one observes him from faraway.
They squirm in from under the clouds,
Opening their messages so enjoyed by
The heart.

hello, love.
    one day
       i would like a library
                   a whole library, in our very own house.


I've already started collecting, you know
(things like that take a lot of planning)
books, i mean. collecting books
from second-hand bookstores and thrift shops.
floor to ceiling to floor, the room will have books
and millions of golden threads leading from the pages,
connecting our little corner of the world to the rest of it.
to London in 1854, and Iran in 1990, and India tomorrow.
we can walk into our library any old time
and amble right on through to anywhere.

                     mom didn't like to buy me many books as a child
                     oh, yes, she taught me the importance of reading
                     we read every day, and for that i owe her my life.
                     but we didn't buy them
                    books, i mean
                     because i'd read them too quickly
                     a day or two, maybe
                     and so we used the library

want to know something nerdy?
i was probably the only nine-year-old in the city
to have the library card number memorized,
all fourteen digets.
did you know they max out at 30?
books, i mean.
30 books at one time.

We will read to our children every single night. we will act out the stories; we will help them see that the stories are just as alive and breathing as they are. you can be Peter Pan, and i'll be Frances Hodgson Burnett's Sara Crewe.

and when they are old enough, they will read to themselves every day as a chore, like making their beds or unloading the silverware. hopefully they won't see it like that, like a chore. hopefully they will become addicts. they will sneak flashlights into their rooms and read underneath the covers after bedtime every night.

                              but we'll never ground them for that.
                              instead, we'll take trips to the library
                             and teach them how to dream.

                                               all my love.