pain caused
by love
    and also death
not ever goes away

it ends in tonalities of spliced ends
some woven together others
jutting into nowhere dangling
like a Dylan song you love but don't
quite know all the metaphorical meanings to
of nowheres and space probes
sent to tickle you
on your own you must believe in
something more
special spacious
put meanings into amorous
trysts space gods
mystiques
unadorned with the accepted norms
a late night sobbing alone
cats and dogs your companions now
but knowing some outer space
visciously beautiful being
is gonna haunt you soon
and fly you off to the moon making passion
without touch a beam a laser like on your ******
tickles    get it doll

I would shrink to a cellular level to reach your soul
  And kiss it back to life if it were ever   possible

i hate endings.
i'm not a lover of beginnings either,
but the story
the stuff in between?
it grabs me so hard, and shakes me by the
shoulders sometimes.

i'm thankful for our in between.
even if the ending is tearing me
to shreds.
even if the clumsiness of our beginning still
runs miles through my head

scene/after/scene/after/poem/after-
(YOU CAN RIP MY HEART OUT, I STILL LOVE YOU)


*i'll be that girl who always waits for the sequel- no matter how long it takes for it to come. i promised you always, i promised you...

I am almost rigidly opposed
to
almost nothing in the morning
caffeine I think is the drug of opening
eyes it seems

now when night arises her dark eyes sultry
to
at most cool the sun baked fields softening
the horizons

hasten a day into dreams soft and curling
up
as a soft kitten purrs on your feet
I get cautious

so much so I envy the
broad
appeal of those dark eyes on my
last zeal

I claim all of her dark
night
take her as my bride
so all

of you hands off the
dark
she is mine and will be
I close

my eyes
finally

those whose sparkle shine
like  diamonds on a
silver lake in the middle
of a forest
acres of nothing but trees surround

those whose breath
like mine is
met with frosty shivers
on a cold or warm morn'

where the atmosphere
is nothing
ghostly images on vistages of vanities
breath rising clouds in the air
to a mountain

somewhere a vantage like a scenic cliff
in some such mystic place
the place you saw last night in that
dream

where breath meets the clouds and the air so crisp clean
washes your insides