I have missed you
Since the birth
Of Sound.

You were
First. Of
All.

Who you are under
A cloudless sky,
Is uninteresting.

Show me a smile through
Drenched hair, wet to
Raindropped lips,

And I'll fall for you,
Knowing you won't care
Why now,

But carry on smiling at the
Rain. So
Carelessly

It begins
To doubt
Itself.

I know that sound.
It's the same all over the world.
Vast spaces filling up with
Noise, smoke and flashes.  

Closer. Closer until close.
Then there.

I know your face like
The palm of my hand held out
From under the roof of your
Porch.

Somebody's gotta say it.
It's raining.
Poets stating the obvious to
Each other, like it's all one poem
Or another,

As poets do.

Nothing like the darkness
Swallowing blue sky. Nothing
Like lightning swallowing that  
Darkness in high voltage gulps
Of fierce celestial appetite.

I sip at your soul as our hands meet;
Mouths on the tips of our
Fingers nibbling kisses.

If your heart was a crime scene,
They wouldn't find a single print
Of mine after dusting.

But I was there.

The rain washes nothing away
That hasn't promised to return.
And I do strike twice; even
Knowing the third one

Would put me away for good.

I'd be behind bars and bolts.
Your face flashing
Before my eyes.
In love like an electric storm.
Guilty as
Charged.

That robin on the wire outside
Is shaking the rain from its feathers,
Drying in the warmth from Sun

Pushing dark clouds apart;
Letting us both

Breathe in the absence
Of the recent downpour.

The sun doesn't give a ray
Whether you feel like light or not.
Things need to grow.
To dry. To tan.

And you're just a man.
Your heart is a pebble.  

Darkness comes, but never stays.
These are also days.

The moon doesn't give a beam
Whether you rest with a teary face.
Tides need to rise.
Moth chase. In vain.

The same to them, your pain.
Your heart is a pebble.

The world spins in her own ways.
These are also days.

These are all days,
Yesterdays are frozen in time and
Recorded forever.
To live. To be.

To get to walk around as me.
With a pebble heart.

Another true adventure stays
A part of Life and all Her ways.
I've kissed her mouth,
I've touched her face.
Those were also days.

I woke up from snoring.
I'm a light sleeper
When carbohydrates and
Fats roam my
Temple.

Sometimes I drink three pints
Of water before I sleep.
It's as good an alarm in the morning
As any.

So much in my life is
Food and drink.

You may kiss me as sweetly
As you can, or slap
A bitter palm across my face.
It's all dessert and dinner to me,

In any order you wish.
I'll never sleep with you
Hungry.

An end for every beginning.
The price of being; to one day
Not. Still some eat their cake
To keep it.

I have been more mis- than
Understood in my life.
I speak in symbols, meta-thoughts.
Poetry is

Not for the ones who imagine
Grudges so they have something to
Hold. All I know is that this ****
Plane will

Refuse to go down with us in it.
If it stops, it stays up here
Until we make up our minds to
Land and keep loving. Or jump.

Las Vegas hit me like a
Jab on the jaw
Rome was an adventure

But I always felt more a
Stranger than
Here, where

Every face |even those of
Smitten tourists|
Carry the features of

"Friend". **** you, London.
Your every borough makes me
As warm as the arms

Of an ex you wish
Wasn't
One.

During the very earliest 1900s
A little boy walked a gravel road
With his grandfather.

The old man kept whittling him
Birch shoots that he whipped at
Weeds with, before he threw them

Aside; ready for another. "Cut me a
Whip, grandpa." "Cut me another."
The old man obeyed smiling.

The man was my great-great
Grandfather. The boy,
My grandfather's oldest brother.

I grew up walking
Those same gravel roads.
Whipping.

Looking around at the
State of Our Fears

Our only focus should
Be renewable energy

And a non-material shift
In values  

All other roads are
Razors resting

On the edge of a
Bathtub, ready.

Wiggles her toes again
Always a good
Sign

Only rich men know
The sensation of
Coming

This close to losing
Something so
Insanely

Valuable

You enshadow all
Beneath
You
Floating like fluid in
Liquid flutter in
Slow motion

A ghost in water
Framed with daylight
Dancing on
Underwater waves
The most beautiful dead
Object in the
World

I am an alien in
Your realm  
Unarmed against the forces of
Your otherworldly
Guise
As

I bow unto You  
As Poet
As Poet and unbreathing
Man