the lovers are naked,
but not exposed.

a simple Kiss,
so lovely and almost innocent,
layed on her cheek instead of lips.

they try with absolute and perfect effort,
to be as close as they can.
melting into each other’s fulfilled bodies,
they feel as one.

they tried to make it to the meadow,
but were over eager,
and so unable to resist each other
that even three extra steps
would have been too far.
instead they lay down atop the soft soil
and give in to their lust.

his mind works in shapes, patterns,
and hers in endless circles.
when combined, however,
they create something more than lust, for
the feelings they share
are those of beauty,
not comparable to simple animalistic desire,
but instead, ethereal perfection.

and perhaps, instead of red,
yellow is the color of their hearts.
but, of course, there’s nothing wrong with being
a little different
            when you’re in love.

I feel endless, with his stick inside
and around, eating my whole being,
making a mess without regard to
ancient, floating dirt.
Finally able to escape my body’s depths
after months of tortured isolation.
The vacuum yearns for dust, but I cleaned

just yesterday, no need for the broom.
Particles ascend from my abdomen
out the window, flying, somewhere, far
in the distance. He follows, staggering,
out the front door.

Seven numbers, written quickly on a small
page of notepad, tossed from his
hand, flying with the wind until, finally,
the paper meets dust.
Beginning of an invisible friendship,
forgotten by morning.

I awake, smiling at the sun.
Feeling light,
spotless,
refreshed.

Colossal grey feet stride forth, Northbound,
Conquering the jungle’s labyrinth,
Leading her herd.
A young boy, whose name means Enlightenment,
Sits in awe, quiet and close,
Watching her. Each step, gracefully slow
But deliberate.
She has much to teach me, Ahren wonders,
This holy beast, an animalistic embodiment of
The perfect disciple and
My own Spirit guide.
He walks in silence, hidden in the endless green.
Two dozen female elephants follow
Their master obediently
And loyally.
Hearing her call, they destroy any and all
Which stands in their way, trusting the leadership
Of the matriarch.
She knows the way, has travelled this path
Many times before, recalling past dangers, never
Treading twice.
An unexplainable knowing is
Felt by all her kind.
Tiny eyes fill with wisdom of all she has seen,
While enormous ears listen intently,
Unselfish and kind,
Hearing always the messages
Of their family.
Ahren observes this animal on his path towards
Understanding. She is gentle, yet fears nothing, save
The pain of others.
I must learn to see through the eyes of Spirit,
And listen more than I speak, moving carefully
Down the path.
In this life it is my task to warn others of dangers encountered,
To overcome any obstacles received on my Human journey,
Heeding my master’s call.
He watches as the herd reaches a clearing.
They form a circle, surrounding the bones of
A fallen family member.
The vibratory funeral call sounds faintly.
Using her trunk, the matriarch pats the carcass,
Quietly saying goodbye.
Ahren cries with the elephants, feeling the loss
As if it was his own.

She said to me, walking in trees on a cold night,
Boy, I want chocolate after your raw tongue.
Lather me with mounds, melting like hot peaches,
In the juicy spring.

I’ll turn the tree into a sweet Sunday pole.
Dance like a sweaty, delirious goddess.
Together we’ll watch the storm with bitter moans,
Forbidden whispers.

Live in the purple-breasted apparatus.
And drool over your tiny repulsive head,
As you lay beneath the frantic symphony
Of the black forest.

Music of the street
Reverberates loudly
Out the dumpster,
From the tiny mouth
Of a screaming
Baby
Wrought in the wombs
Of filth, injustice,
Foggy rage.
Tongues ripped out,
On the floor, tastebuds that
Know the pang
of blue blood.
Rusty nails and overused syringes
***** the fingers,
Softly.
The people yell, maniacally,
Yet remain unheard.
Pain becomes evident,
Written on the faces
Of the unwholesome.
A wafting scent of
Their rotten morals,
Forgotten dreams,
Floats, as hot steam,
from the pavement.
Unable now
To decompose.
Across the road,
A pregnant woman holds
Her cigarette, which
Smells of cookies
And cream soda.
Jesus was enlightened,
Not too pious
For the poor.
Yet more than pain
Was written
On their faces,
Missing tongues, missing eyes.
Laid together
On the ****-stained mattress,
Feet to head and head
To feet.
Nonsense was confused
As words, that danced into
Non-platonic humps.
She kissed him, because
She wanted to feel
The texture of his brain.
Pick her up with
Golden hand, though
She may see you.
And the sad image of
Dollar bills
Inspires the mind,
Making it immobile.
Here, where the *******
Stands, more holy
Than the monastery.
Crawling, as they do,
Through unpainted,
Rented walls, like
Hungry little cockroaches,
Creeping for a bite.
The small infant still
Lays on metal, each
Moment crying softer
For warmth.
Though you will not
Hear her tomorrow,
As she’s carted off by
Garbage men
Who, each week, remove
The undesired
Remnants of yesterday.
Hope for sweet
Needles to sooner bring her
A different relief.
Life is so simple
When struggles
Are never-ending.
Mi amor pequeña,
no llores más. El fin está cerca,
aunque no entiende
mis palabras.
Though the buildings
Surrender with
Decay and the sun decides
He doesn’t want
To keep on caring
The music still plays mournfully,
And only the baby can hear.