i have so many poems
       and i bet the people
                  whom follow me now
               i bet they haven't seen the first poem i uploaded
                                                   or the second
i understand that my "skills"
      have improved
                     from the first dodgy poems i wrote
  but i'd like to know
             if they were no good
             or if it's just that no one looked at them

if your arms were a destination
             i'd fly to it
if your lips were the sky
        i'd bask in it
if your hair was sea ****
                i'd get lost in it
if your eyes were the trees
     i'd live in them
if your heart was an ocean
           i'd die in it

your peacefully sleeping body is unaware
of the breath-taking gratitude I carry;
as July daylight settles upon the landscape
of your softly rolling bones, I meditate:

even the warm crimson sheets don’t know
of the tender, reverent gifts which you gave me;
that gentle evening, a delicate Love Dream,
my pieces became a whole and we shared in it:

my threadbare spirit slowly mends under the
meticulous lacing of your fingers together with mine;
my once-blind eyes blink into the bare clarity
of some uninhibited purity onto which we now hold:

and somehow, your enraptured, calmly sensual glow
still eclipses even the radiating fullness of my feelings;
the upturned corners of your smile and your contented voice
still brush the long-forgotten blush onto my cheek:

but even though I twist these words into the shape
of my adoration, they couldn’t shine brightly enough;
it does me well to simply thank you with my lips
in the sweetly-lit lightness of our happy silence.

it's so terribly sad
           that unless you're located
  in a place with no or little food
            people are criticized for their weight
            put in boxes
                                                   [overweight]
                                                   [underweight]
and there's no
                                                   [perfect weight]
instead there are people
                               on diets
             to gain
        or to loose
                                                 to attempt to get the
                                                   [perfect weight]
there are adults
                teenagers
                children
                                          who only want food
                                          they're in their own box
                                                                                                      they're [starving]

the river was sad
so i gave it a hug...
i didnt want to come back up

Po-hymn


To whomever you pray to,
And if there is no such icon,
Then I hymn-hum to you, this tribute


Let all my mistakes, my typographical errors,
Like writing poem and getting back po-hymn,
Bring delights to keep, to grow ancient on my face,
For from every accident, we grow and bend,
New tree leaning towards our collective inner
Sun Ra.

I am no David, psalms and hymns,
Unreadily exist, so dug deep Lord,
To write this prayer, for my brethren.
Just one day, someday, let heaven
Grant only poets births, no passings took.

Give us goodness and grace
All the poems of our day.
Shed special light all about our faces,
From our shoulders, rise up insight inside our heads,
Brighten, enlighten, give us eloquence and sanity.

Let our missives dismiss the gloom,
Polish, remove the tarnish, we cannot secret
From the all seeing confessions taker,
Honesties writ daily but never published.

Give us meter, yes, give us rhyme,
To make sense of the grey days,
The black hole invaders,
Given iris-shine be our responsibility,
But a sweet nudge, prithee,
Enhance our impoverished ability.

This Sabbath day your fog-hide
Your gift of bay and beach
So quiet implore, beseech,
Keep the sailors safe,
And your poets saved.

I ask much.
But I ask for all of us,
There are so many such
That are booster-chair needy
That I am succumbed, overwhelmed,
Enormity fearsome needs help even from a deity.

Small words, big hopes.

If you cannot grant it,
Won't wait for intervention,
Do it myself, answer prayers one and all,
Best I can, starting now with this
Po-hymn.

July 13th for always