I am no rock
my heart
is not made
of tiny bits
of stone
it will not
be crushed
like a pile
of ground-up bone
it might be
washed upon
shores
like the most
miniscule of
treasures
found in sand,
unseen to
naked eye
yet so full of
iridescent magic
in a spectrum of colors
a secret world
unto its own
those almost
invisible shapes
jeweled corals
of earth
up from
sea  bottom
in foamy
rebirth
but I will take it
(yes, my heart,
in rawness
and thunder)
and hold it
and nurse it
before it goes under
I will rock it
and soothe it
before it calcifies
as the ocean
invites endless
salt from
my
eyes

The clouds take their form
Against a comfortable sky
The calm without the storm
As the breath of Heaven blows by
A gentle wind caresses my skin
With a soft, slow breeze
Embracing the peace,
From without and within,
My soul is now at ease

it was always her
that tasted like narcotics
and smoke
everything bittersweet in between

but to her
i tasted of water
and time passing
a shrug, a sideways glance

Ma and Pa,
lover doves,
kiss with fists
and hug with shoves.

She's leaving in the morning
and she knows this
and I know this
and there's little-to-nothing she can do about it
and there's little-to-nothing I can do about it

and she knows this
and I know this.

She walks into the room
with her hair in a towel
and nothing else on
her ******* sway a little as she looks for the ***** shirt
she wears to bed

I'm lying on that bed
in my underwear
by the window listening
to the frogs chirp outside
and I watch her
move around out of the corner
of my eye
so she doesn't notice how
I watch her move.

Don't get all sentimental, I think,
it's too late for that now.

There's little-to-nothing she can do
and there's little-to-nothing I can do

and we know this-

Don't get all sentimental, ******* you,
I think,

but she's there now,
where I can see her
and my idle mind gets rolling

and there's little-to-nothing I can do.

The night closes in
and we're naked
to each other in the dark in that bed.
Close.
There's a storm raging outside
and she's leaving in the morning

and that's the end of it.

There is strength inside of pain
wisdom whispers soft and still
for I’ve learned to trust the rain.

Wild spirit trumps the brain
doctored by a solemn pill.
There is strength inside of pain.

Daily rushes done in vain
shout and tumble, push and spill.
I will listen for the rain.

Does it matter if I’m sane
labeled “crazy” “weak” or “ill”?
There is strength inside of pain.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained?
You may make your way with will;
I prefer to trust the rain.

Blizzards rise and breezes wane.
I fear neither drought nor chill.
Here is strength inside of pain;
Now I’ve learned to trust the rain.

bleached
beneath
a 10 kilowatt
moon
anticipating
geometry
the smell
of soap
that same
instant
calling into
question
bisexuality
without flesh
or
the vibration
of blood

have a seat and see these majestic creatures
reduced to only a beastly feature
they follow the lead of the keepers
freedom will never be their teacher