I find the places we have been
    miss us while we're away

for rivers to know laughter and then
          only the rush of water

            no parameters, no
         sense of urgency,
                
       nothing compares.

I may not be able to provoke beauty
in my words.
Nod.
For I'm just a writer with no experience
of any masterpiece.

But for those appreciations, all of you
have given to my works.
Smile.
For each has left butterfly that will always
be inside my chest.

And that is irrevocable.

Far away, a bird sings
a song of spring's sweet arrival
High trills, low moans
Is it yearning for love,
or desperate for renewal?
Suddenly, his fingers find mine through
green blades and slide
over the back of my hand
A quiet breath escapes my lips
as we sit on dewy grass
But I do not feel moistness
only a warm kindling
in the pit
of my stomach
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
His amber eyes are glowing,
illuminated by the rays
of the afternoon sun
A cool wind brings the scent
of leaves
and all else that is spring
Brings his arms like a blanket
rubbing away goosebumps
spread on my skin
And somehow the sun
warms my spine enough
to seep in me
a morsel of courage
a slight turn of the face
a nervous murmur
And then I can taste
spring on his lips.

I'm not crazy,
I swear.
You can't hear the voice?
The little bird that sits
On my shoulder and whispers
In my ear?
No?
That is your loss.
My voice tells me things
You can not imagine.
He whispers poems to me,
And sings lullabies to me,
And holds my hand when
I am scared.
But I'm not scared,
Not when he's whispering to me.
So I'm not crazy,
I swear.
My imagination is just too much
And needs to be expressed -- out --
Not kept inside because of fear.
You fear for me?
I fear for you
You have never known his whisper,
Or his music.
And you shall live hollow,
Because you have never known him --
Him who is your Genius.

He is in love with questions
And the lilting world of words,
With the fabric of philosophy
And the taste of fresh ideas.

He is in love with the smell of green
And the shifting sands of dreams,
With the hunt for profound moments
And the hunger-lust for purpose.

He is in love with his books
And the zodiacs cross the planet,
With patterns of chain reactions
And the way we cog and gear.

He is in love with pools of stardust
And fanciful notions of theory,
With darkness, deep and coveted
And the fabric it is made from.

He is in love with one who left
And the poisoned past he bathes in,
With being perpetually lonesome
And floating twixt life’s sabulous banks.

He is in love with memories, and the universe,
And nobody else.

With my choking heart, I’m grasping at dust,
And I am in love with him.

My brow curly angel
my Lillian
with eyes that shine like
the first star in twilight.
My blond sweetheart
my Liam
with eyes that burn like
a sunrise on a winter day

They sit, with unseen bond,
and watch as lights flicker
and reflect on their eyes.
“Go! Diego Go!” Liam bounces.
Lillian’s lavish lashes fall, lackadaisical
she holds her doll and recites
“Mommy made me mash my M&Ms;”

Liam can feel the bond, weakened,
and teases her, lovingly,
“The lily-licking frog licked Lillian!”
she squeals and holds her doll tight
Frightened, he drives his sister out.

I smile, and hold them both,
Lillian’s escape postponed.
Liam falls into me,
but my angel,
she slips away
smiling
laughing
and then it hits.

Water trickles down my cheeks,
salty with defeat,
as we dress in black.
I have failed, my angel,
and I have lost you,
Forever.

I long for your Love
your Warm giggle
your Bright eyes.
My hope for happiness
is Shattered as you
fall
out of reach
and out of sight.

Why hadn't I insisted?
Why didn't I keep you safe?
Now my sweetheart is
lost, connection broken,
he watches his sister
disappear under Earth.