Your love is addicting –
like…
******* in my beard
on a Tuesday night.

Teach me to see
as an infant:
I need everything to be
for the first time again.

I want to watch you bleed –
into the subtext and margins
of my notebook
so we can dispense with the periods.

Your sweat is bitter
like dreams deferred,
but I still long to lick
your mind and taste your voice.

And who then would have told  
of this end anyway ?
Not you, you leapt first and furthest
always, and recklessly that last time;

few enough I think remember now,
but I knew you when
we were skywide open and
kin to the blowing wind;

we were brothers you and I,
two of a different kind, we ran
and we jumped like suicides, leaving
dust trails like others leave wealth,

there were days I believed
boxes were built only to be
strung together as freight trains,  
god knows we rode all those that were;

but lately I see them used
by people frightened of
freedom also, for to
hide their worried lives inside...

Poised on current of splendor
Flight feathers outstretched, strong
Fledgling hears his mother's call
Brave release draws baby bird to song

Swooping beyond slipping branches
Resplendence in clear air carries
Joy of freedom from high nest
Moment in waiting no long tarries

Whisp of breeze in taking
With life pulsing heart and wings
A humming bird can't pretend
That he is at all another thing

Constant is our evolution
And rainbows do reappear
Some encircling breathtaking beauty
These ruby-throated dears

Hum and buzz of fluttery wonder
Nectar is yours for taking
Joie de vivre as you spin by me
Jouissance and felicity making

You whisper in my ear and tickle
Tempting words for me
You know my meaning may be fickle
As I find, you've set me free

a false prophecy
mirage
when your eyes get used
to the
dark and the dawn you
seem to
see and your spirits
soar for
a minute over
the hill
to meet her then, it
again
becomes apparent
you are
just dreaming once more

come, let usmeet again
and 
        rest
               between gusts
of karmic storms
    h        i
w    i    l   ng us through
         r
this time around

we who see                centuries

behind subtle )direct( glances
within nuanced phrase
and recycled archaic wisdom
in children of Indigo
young crones and old men

crossing d i  m   e     n     s      i       o        n         a          l planes
electrons and optical cable,
light transmitting light
around what planet
we know in our
present
reality.

to fully grasp your smile
to hold your hand or grab your ***
or open a door for you with words printed only

I only type letters arranged to make shorter
the distance between two blooms reaching
for heaven

I cannot from here hear your breath,
nor lay my ear upon your papers
your message comes

full of promises of spring the rebirth of hope
it is in my head , the high notes
the lovebirds whispers

from here , i here typing
the shy tapping of the red headed woodpecker
or perhaps a thrush

busy putting small pieces of paper
with words wrote
tapping into a nest

where future is the tenderness
of reality making
the best of words

actually touching, with eyes
heart tips fingers
touching skin or feather

not a keyboard

i am not
my favorite poet
not even third or
fourth in line for the title

the hawk circles
laughing
at such a notion

and i bury my toes
in the dirt
waiting for the mockingbird
to chime in