I wish to age like a wrap-around porch
In a thunder storm,
While generations tell tales,
Sipping drinks.
A porch of blinking stars,
A shelter out of rain,
With ascending and descending friends.

I will age like a tree,
Grow stronger in the wind;
Give shade and shelter to all
Beneath my ring-aged limbs.

I wish to age as a river bends,
Contiguous with all shores;
Floating everyone I know
On eternal waters,
A current winding with no rest.

I will age like a star,
Burning bright, giving light,
Something to reach for.

I wish to age like a mountain,
With secret caves and riches.
And you can rock your soul
Around, over or through,
Solid, snow-capped summit,
Beckoning you.

I will age as the moon,
In stages, full and new;
Each night different,
Unnoticeable fading,
As all who age will do.

two beats. one heart
    i want to become one with you.
love love love.

     one? what is one? 
    the lowest cardinal number. 
     half of two. 
    
you? one...
     You're? the one. 
two beats. one heart
 us? one.
one? you. myself. ; peculiar beings ; one? we are one. 
              
always and forever, I have hoped to find the one.
always and forever, I have hoped to find she. who amounts to one .
you? her? one? my love.
forever and always I hope to have you as one. 
forever and always I hope to become one with you.

catharsis. 
the word said like a mantra. 
the word said like the last prayer.
the word amounting to; you. one. Nirvana. serendipity.
      four words; four hearts; one.

through you many things have been found, love, lust, love, serendipity, nirvana, catharsis, love , art, love. 
    
together? catharsis ; can become. 
two beats. one heart.
two hearts. one beat.
   in sync. love.
i love you
   three words. mantra.
you you you. i love you.
catharsis; you and i. forever and always. Nirvana. 
 Words; life. You; life support. Us; love, hope.
 
well hoped.

Gunga peas calypso
Madly
in my cooking ***
gradually I pour canned coconut milk
into the swirling flavors
of cilantro, garlic and onions


Staring into the rich brown
stew
I can see my Mother grating
coconut meat and hand squeezing
the milk like teats from a cow
(Too much work for me)
creating a traditional coconut rice and peas
dish


She was raised on a farm in St. Elizabeth,
Jamaica
early hours, rugged, hard labor were natural
for the family which included nine siblings
Pauline was a kind big hearted Soul
with ample soft *****
perfect for children
to lay their heads upon
and skin that always seemed
to smell of curry


Burnt sienna Indian complexion
wavy black river hair
and colorful patois accent
painted a portrait
cavorting over the dandy, rolling
goat hooved hills of
Jamaican village peasantry


The Moravian church of England formed
beliefs woven inextricably through
the fabric of her simplistic
innocent existence
our Mom instilled a love of
God in us that was pure and hearty

"Sonya stop your daydreaming"
my Mother's clarion voice interrupts
my avid reverie

"Bumba!" I cry aloud
"I haven't had bammy in eons"

Quickly my fingers Google
Another tasty native recipe

chock full of memories
and cassava root

His ******* angel wings can no longer lift him high enough. His silhouette
stands against the Morning Glory sky. He has not worn cologne
until this day. Now, the perfume of kerosene coats him. His
matchstick countdown has just hit zero,
ignition.

In flames, he launches off the edge of that crisp concrete line. He falls
ten stories, what was once a man, now an effigy not of stone
or wood, but flame which, wind-washed,
splays out as Ringed Plover wings,
ash feathers blown back.

With a crash of bone and pavement, his Chinese Lantern skin the color
of burnt-sienna, the blaze snuffs out. Through yellow plastic paper,
the creamy skinned women rush to his side. Mother,
Sister, Wife, cradle him, the fingers catch skin
which sloughs off in
flakes of
carbon.