I dream as though my eyes have gone
I creep and grasp at walls
And blood drips down my borrowed hands
I've found in hospice halls

Can you see me as I'm dreaming?
Or am I lost in space?
Don't tell me
Don't tell me

My days are filled with listless strolls
The nights I dream I'm blind
I toss and turn with sweat-soaked sheets
That tangle, strangle, bind

Can you see me as I'm dreaming?
Or am I lost in space?
Don't tell me
Don't tell me now. . .

i wake to the auburn sun
that is dancing
in the cloudless sky.
sudden rush of air
carried morning dew
over my window panes.
over blooming flowers.
the time, a moment
to start things over again.

lit a candle,
a star to wish upon.

the night draws
the torment of the sea,
waves crashing
on distant shores.

my wish, this tiny twinkle,
rides in fire, flame shaped,

a cry in front of Solomon's
slaughtering sword:

let him live, for his heart is love
and his love shapes the world.

thinking of days as kisses
so everyday is like a kiss;
think of night as mystery
so every night is a mystery

I.
No one writes love notes to the evil
women in fiction & fairy tale; evil
queens who dress like Anna Wintour
at a Saturday night dungeon party. I
for one have been dreaming of u all
my life; my relatives cruelly putting
the scare into a child who metastasized
& metamorphosed their witches into
*** objects so the nightmares wouldn't
scare me; consequently I'll **** just
about anything but women terrify me;
I dream a world where ugliness
rules in darkness & every face shrieks;
terror awaits any ready soul, so few
go through the narrow gait right past

II.
the temple/brothel/*******/
*** trafficking giving the oldest
occupation for healthy young ladies
a terrible reputation when at one
time famous rakes visited fabulous
courtesans & it made the scandal
sheets; nowadays we have the same
thing; high class ****** get their
due just like the temple ****** of
old; sleep, my green queen, u rule
this land of green libido hungry for
young pink flesh but getting gamy
grandmas instead; ****** come in
all ages & shapes & colors &
tattoos & piercings & kinks & kids
& spouses; sleep, my green queen,
every fairy tale is secretly about u

The Sansui turntable still works well.
Like memories, round and round,
Needling me. And the more I play them,
The more they itch.
I know the dark side of the moon,
And the way the sun shines.
The dances, whirlwind moves,
That have settled now.
Inside the sleeve are notes and our words.
I will not let the dust jackets do their job.
I set Abbey Road gently on the pad,
Place the needle softly, and hear the familiar scratch.
Standing back, like watching a parade,
I listen.
Here comes the sun on a cloudy day.

It was that one last drop
that flooded a brimful hollow

Welling drop by drop . . .
Lingering , . . moment by moment,
belatedly over-flowing the restraint
slowly filled by reckoned time

Gathered teardrops surrendered
from vulnerable cup of thirsting blossom
Volatile bedewed petals gently sipping
   dawn's velvet  mist

A tender heart ... spilling the traces of hurt
Beneath the stains of time
    hidden deep within
the enigmatic pools of your eyes

    The moment of love
              awoken,
         is a boundless
        awaited sunrise

It's as if a stifled river's trickle  
       reinvigorates thirst,
  abating its own extinction

           The will to be,
     heeded in a last drop,
             inspiriting
       new breathe of life

          long lost adrift,
       alone in tidewater's
               contrary 
          push and pull

Dreaming of Spooning water
   from a broken vessel
   into insoluble oceans

Each loving spoonful filled
with the overflowing love
    from a broken heart

To rescue from endangering indifference,
knowing only what is loved can be saved

Will you touch this aching silence and let me know ?

Gaze your eyes into this lonely sea
     and let the tide pull you in


              Jesse  Stillwater

The bed breathed deeply.
The furnitures covered with
your luminescent fingerprints.
The silverware died slowly,
in the grey sink.
The house tried to talk to me/

I was afraid to step out,
Outside the sympathy of my house.
Into the streets spilled with
people of your asymmetric eyes
My house tried to talk to me.

I now have nobody left to lose,
As I lay on the carpet with a sense of sooth,
The chandelier finally sang its vocal cord loose,
The wires looped instinctively like prehistoric noose.
My house tried to talk to me.

Then I know I am not alone,
The house teems with your pulse,
The glass splits from echo of your voice.
The house tells me so.

I broke through the door,
torn away from the umbilical cord of my solitude.
Melted through the heat of the cheering multitude.
My house tells me, taking care of each word.

My house tells me,
I am not alone,
And you will always
be with me in spirit only.

I'm such a ****
And proud to be
I love men
Loving me