Iris, how you shallow breathe in winter
shiver under clouds, laid in a bed decayed and brown
days of cold in a garden underground
long through winter
and spring only ever waiting
to unfurl the color blue of you.

Go back to sleep, my dearest love,
There’s no need to know such worry;
I am watching from high above.
Go back to sleep, my dearest love.
Fret not my lovely lady dove:
Your eyes are getting so blurry.
Go back to sleep, my dearest love;
There’s no need to know such worry.

You lose a job
the lover you tied your life with drifts elsewhere
the place you grew root seems not home anymore
the days are vacuous and nights a crawler
your head echoes with the deafening groan

I deserve no love, even from me.

Surely it’s the worst portrait you drew of yourself
and an erroneous one.

The job was filling your purse but emptying your purpose
the lover was no fairy but a fair weather friend
the home was only a harbor you anchored before sail.

There’s a world at your doorstep begging your attention
withering without your love.

Pick up and hold them to your breast
see how quickly unburdens your chest
your spirits soar.

From thence you would never cease
to love yourself from the core!

big city room, streets quiet with
buzz in the distance. someone
awakens to a bladder, they retired earlier.
a siren wails & wails & is gone

emergency words. i don't know how they arrive
then are gone
like a thief stealing thoughts
transcribing the night.

equinox promises
a dance of planets
& there is no meaning unless
you choose to believe that.

still again
time to retire from the page
file things away
alphabetical order

highways and byways
rivers and streams
molehills and mountains
hopes and dreams

cry, hopeless woman with desperate voice
fly, sweet freedom and blessed choice
love, loveless loser of selfish means
above, soulless skies are so unclean

highways and byways
rivers and streams
molehills and mountains
hopes and dreams

grieve, gentle child with much remorse
leave, grievous man without recourse
shout, silent heart with much to say
about, hordes of hollow heroes lay

highways and byways
rivers and streams
molehills and mountains
hopes and dreams

For some days they talk about the dead
he was a good man even his enemies say
kind friendly and very well bred
may his soul have peace they pray!

By some magic death bares goodness
hitherto unseen come to the view
you wonder the man made so much place
that when he was living you hardly knew!

All his deeds get a paint of shine
it is said he was a soul to emulate
his manners is seen as highly refined
more than the living turns dead man’s weight!

The ones who had journeyed his life
lived close to his bone and flesh
they wouldn’t know children and wife
how weighed on him his loneliness!

Days turn into nights and back into days again,
a circadian rhythm of sorts
and how fast it goes too.
And who do we really
want to spend time with?
Oh that elusive one
we once knew
or have never met.
And when the guard is down,
they steal your heart away
playing you like a fool,
making for a long
road to ***.
Again and again.

The thought of my lips against yours are like soft satin plumped cushions that slowly press against each other;
slowly seeping,
and elevating,
yearning for more.