If I should die with a shunted echo hear me,
Lost fabled one, my paltry heart the snows,
The warmth rides of the chiding winter sun,
The melody and rustling in cantata leaves,

Whose strings of one, plaintive guitar, strung                                      
By breaths birthing breaks, your tracing lips,
White birds, water wings miraculous, not so
Stunning as your steps float above the water,

I am nothing, less, you shine pure, most of all
More than any heart could tender, how could
An empty house, abridgment only, unhinging
Doors coursing reason hold the new day sun?

As flame was my doom, love hear my thesis—
Should I die, look for me in the loom chrysalis.

Every dot takes a space
millions of dots can make
a straight line
or can create an arbitrary path

Where we are traveling
that can make life simple
or can draw a circle
that turns you again
to your home

Or an uneven line
that creates a sway
where the river moves   
but can't say that
there was no space
before the big bang

Each word has a pour
that impact could be
low or loud  
but some words can make
a metaphor
a poem

Can catch happiness
or sadness
can art an imagery
of nature
life

Or a thought
that can make an illusion
or a fusion between
the love and the hope
that we perches into our soul

Every bits of sound holds an emotion
thousands of bits make a rhythm
that can build a song
whether it's a song of joy

Or sad
or a true loop
that never terminate
thee love of  

Or a rebel tune
that makes a struggle
for the independence
which can make an eternal
freedom song!

In her closet next to a shirt
hangs a concertina pleated skirt
she slips it on with grace and ease
the tiny pleats are there to please
like a million shimmering crystal shards
all tightly pressed like a pack of cards
as she moves they sway and dance
upon her legs they tickle and prance
the feeling makes her smile and shiver
which makes the pleats start to quiver
they skim and flatter her  hips and ***
like the majestic rays of a rising sun
such carnal delights found in a skirt
as she hangs it back next to the shirt.

There were two snow globes in two glass houses,
Two ballet dancers in a studio,
Two butterflies that have gone back to the chrysalises,
And two wishes coming true,
    As her soul, gradually, peers through.
And I tell her,
It is a Universe outside as it is within.
I lead her eyes to a close
     With a kiss.*

© 2015 J.S.P.