the etching of
reflection in a china bowl
full of water,
our love
uncovering tiny silver
stars on the horizon.

We are explosive.
Two sticks of dynamite waiting for the match.
Just one whisper of a spark and we'll go,
Dying to impersonate the stars
Like fireworks in the night.

Fire, you and I
But different, if you know where to look.

Flames of summer
You are wild and destructive,
Spreading yourself too thin
Like wildfires in the drought
Roaring challenges at the sun.
But in the cricket-filled cool nights,
Bringing comfort and memories to the young at heart
Taming yourself for a time beneath stars that bear my sign
Burning out in the darkness before sunrise
Ready to return at first spark.

Pyre of winter,
Tamed by the frost and wind
Leaning on hearths for strength
Keeping vigil in the long night
Raging against dark and dusk and death
Yearning for what was lost in the fall
Waiting for the rebirth of spring
Sending up grey prayers to stars that bear your sign

Fire, you and I.
Born to stars of flame
Raging, roaring, writhing
At the whim of the wind
Waiting
For the spark.

i.

light in lazy pools
patches of shadow
like closing doors.

ii.

i float
like a ghost
open the sky
like a love letter.

iii.

a bird hovers,
shudders to
a sky that
unwraps its
dreams like
inky pools.

iv.

greyer than ghosts
that kiss for my
lips,
that trembling
of my heart
just for you.

A dusty shelf made of wood
That reaches way up high
Lined with every kind of book
Collected as years went by
Stories written to entertain
To swell the beating heart
To inspire the complacent
To create a change
Or make a fresh new start
Magical stories of fantasy fiction
Biographies and poetic prose
Classic tales by Charles Dickens
Filling up all of the rows
But one sits on a cluttered desk
About the mysteries of Heaven
Set apart from the rest
Opened to page seven

Perhaps on an idle afternoon
when sadness lies heavy on chest
your eyes shimmering like crystal moon
upon my poems would come to rest.

Words of love and touching her shore
yearnings sharp as edge of knife
wrote my mind of twenty four
gathering all from a half seen life.

You flip the pages as years roll down
reach to where past high tides sailed
the ink flows soft as calm of dawn
in peace of void when heights are scaled.

You close the book breathing a sigh
your eyes are wet of misty dew
by then fallen twilight asks you why
the poet on the cover looks like you.

The 21st century love,
equates a list of lust,
a games of hearts,
the legends of *****.

The 21st century love,
is a poisoned arrow,
It sets cupids on fire,
the heat of unrequited love.

The 21st century love,
puts the women in a sack,
It ***** and pounds to dust,
the lost remnants of trust.

The 21st century love,
puts the men on a pedestal,
A rotations of repentant cycles,
the ride to the very end of the pit.

The 21st century love,
is not a salvation that hits the crowds,
It has slowed and slugged us down,
to see the sand blown ****** haze.

The 21st century love,
has an impersonal high of lies,
a hay of burnt passion that fades,
an illusionary bewitched dedication.

The 21st century love,
a reaction to survive in a new world,
give the body and preserve the heart,
Keep your mind and enclose the soul.

The 21st century love,
it's a jungle of reservations,
an ace of diversity and availability,
guard your all littles ones.