Gentler then the sweet spring rain
And bolder than the thunder storms that follow
With the hue of a freshly awakened flower,
That has the courage to dance with the elements,
She takes center-stage of the room.
Bearing the most captivating outfit she could throw together
The beauty that surrounds her cannot be described with mere mortal words
For she has transformed herself into a goddess
A gift of nature
Such an uncommon sight, seeing this woman carry herself with such grace
One would be lead to believe she is searching for attention
But the opposite is true
For holding onto her arm, her most prized-possession,
A man of simple taste that treats her like a princess.
She is not dressing up for her own pleasure but for his
Showing her beauty off to the world
And letting them all know he is worthy of such a girl

I. The hell my mind tries to tame. The honey writhes and spits in a wrinkled cage.



II. Harvest the thick of oxygen, but never dance in the gale. Heed the vocal constellation, but never try to scream along.   



III. I taste the dry tears of last minute musings. Thorns hiss at my flesh; so still I part the green to avoid the forest’s swallow. 



IV. My bones creak with shards of the wind. Their surfaces riddled with Braille.   



V. I sit in my skin and stare at my skull. I’m not going to try and talk over the loud cranial hum. 



VI. You’ve seen the malice of history. The planet screamed an earthquake. Grass forgot to be green. The sun hung in the air like a pierced tongue. 



VII. Fathom not the light freckled days under the green pulse of Earth. Leafs have huddled into the ground like children.



VIII. In the summertime, we're all the same when we're swimming. A waltz of bubbles and hands.

Wrapped in your embrace
Drunk on your scent
Trapped in your eyes
My hands around your neck
You say you have to leave
Robin's calling her Finch
So you start to lean in
For a goodnight kiss

I get all confused
I loose my cool
You want a simple peck
And I was going for more
The moment still happened
Your face so close to mine
I stand there dazed and confused
...Well there's always next time.

Elegant, Gorgeous,
yet deceitful, and burning with hate
she tempts one an all,
to dance before her world's entrance gate

an artist, a poet,
with but one greatest regret
for the art that she hath mastered
was one
that left her audience unable to applaud

I shuffled down the hallway
Trying to stay out of view
Peeking down the walkway
To catch a glimpse of you

But just as i heard you laugh
You looked over my way
I was smiling in a dreamy trance
As our eyes met that day

Your beautiful ocean hue
Made it hard to look away
But I broke the gaze and knew
Id see them once more that night when I lay.

I blushed and we both passed
He smiled and turned to leave
I looked back for one time last
To find him looking at me.

1 Hour.
The first of many.
An hour alone with him.

Talking with me
Smiling and laughing
All of his quirks
Without anyone else stealing his gaze

I get to bask in all of him
And show him
What being with me is like

1 Hour
To show him how to fall in love

It was October of 1966 and he was 9.
He walked proudly
through the scary Brooklyn streets,
searching for that one corner he saw-
on the ride home from PS 361,
back when he was 8.
An entire 3 blocks from home,
and he arrived at Mamma Rosa’s.
“World Famous Taste."
he would taste it soon enough.
(He didn’t know it, but Mamma’s was only famous
for the pizza grease layer over the checkered table cloths).

He mastered the menu with his 3rd grade reading skills.
The “marr-in-ay-ruh” sauce sounded tasty.

The steaming spaghetti came towards his window seat,
and Billboard’s Top 10 Singles played over his noodle noises.

“Mother’s Little Helper” by The Stones was new to him.
He twisted his pasta to the beat of the sitar.
The spicy guitar chords and zest of the marinara on his tongue. . .
The al dente string
swayed
from his stinging lips and to the beat of the bass.

He paid in three quarters he got from the landlord.
He swept the driveway every Sunday.
It was the best sauce he will have ever tasted.
“What a drag it is-
getting old.”

Exiled, banished,
Sent down from your throne in heavens gate
to the torrential dullness of earth
the mear morals around me would call this "paradise lost"
yet I refer to it as my paradise found

For were the angles to be banished to earth
what may one state the difference be?
If there be such beauty in this world as you-
heaven doth speak out of sheer vanity

as to call itself the epitome of prosperity?
and forth to label itself paradise

for as far as the mear mortal known as I
true paradise lay not in gates of pearl,

yet rather in your heart of gold