Frolicking 'Gray's' across golden seas
of Dawn fescue , easing collective thoughts pining
for morningtide rescue
Wild Daises committed to the ever rising
July sunlight , iridescent Hummers circling the piedmont
furrows , tickled Crows burst into laughter in mid-flight
Cardinals and Chickadees relay their gift of self
High above the diamond studded hillside shelf* ....

My favorite part about love
Is also my least favorite
The way you look in their eyes.

The gift is the curse.
It's one of a kind

Sometimes I hold a dead phone to my face so I don't look crazy as I talk to myself.

"Beauty in detail, gives you the largest picture."

Darling, thank you.
Your love had made me
                sane.
But please forgive me
for sanity had never been
my
       favorite
                       cup
                               of
                                    tea.

Should poets be like good Romans,
And fall on their pens
When they loose the fight;
Or should we take flight,
To write another day?

Far into the night
I spied a long dead star
like that dark light
I saw through the pane
of your window,
like a signal for me
that it was all clear now
to move on to another exile,
another woman, another
island to banish myself,
another liaison with dawn.

Muhammad Ali died on the third.
Kimbo Slice died yesterday.*

    If one thing is now clear, it's that life doesn't appreciate those who are strong enough to fight back.

Don’t be afraid, little heart.
It’s simple, really.
Be smarter than to believe what’s promised,
and you’ll always have the courage
to keep beating for something,
something better.