Have you ever seen the full moon at high noon?

Close you eyes, come and dream with me.

You are lying on your back,
on a beach in the Bahamas.
It is noon
on the summer solstice,
and the moon is full.

Stare straight up at the sun,
let the fierce light consume you.

Now roll over, and look straight down.
See through the earth,
through the rock and fire,
through the people or trees or mountains
on the other side.

Look onwards to see the full moon.
Let the gentle glow soothe you.

Open your eyes and wake up.

You have just witnessed something that you will never see.

When it hurts,
you put on a bandaid
for me.

to keep it safe
from the world

to stop careless people
from scraping
at the tender scab

until the bandage gets stuck
and the wound festers

until pulling it off
hurts less
than leaving it on

so you pull it off
for me

And then my heart
can begin to heal.

I love you.
You are mine and I am your’s
until death do us part.

unless...


you snore to much
you join the other political party

you get depressed and lose your job
we can’t make love anymore

you cheat on me
or i get bored


Therefore,
what God has brought together,
Let none
                 (but the best excuses)
                                                         separate.

I am online,
and I have so many account names
I don’t know which one is me.

So who am I?

On Gmail, I try to be myself,
reduced to bits, words, images.

On Twitter,
I flitter about
always tweeting
always listening.

What am I?

On Facebook,
I am a highly evolved
social animal.

On Instagram,
I post my best photos.
Look how
attractive
fun loving
well dressed
I am!

Who am I?

On YouTube,
I watch interesting and important videos,
so I can feel like that sort of person.

On Vine,
I post crazy antics,
silly stunts,
witty clumps of words.
I count my views,
and judge myself.

Who am I?

On the New York Times
I am anonymous,
wearing a grey hat,
using computer tricks
to sneak in
without spending money.

Who is that?

On Hello Poetry,
I try to be the clever fool,
daft and canny.
I write what I feel,
but push the words away
from myself,
into the empty space
between my computer
and yours.

Where am I?

and Who am I?

Online,
I have a hundred faces,
so I have none.

fearful flame
sputtering
in the howling storm
that it made

water trying to flow uphill
can’t
until it turns around

a rolling rock
gathers scratches
but some scratches
are beautiful

breathing
another one
breathing
not stopping
breathing
and loving it

I love snow.
I love the soft white downy stuff
      falling.
I love the bright brilliant
innocence under a morning sun.
I love the endless carefree flakes
dancing outside my window.

But the cold,
well...

What if snow wasn’t cold?
What If it didn’t
chill your ankles
and bite your ears?
What if it didn’t
banish green life
for a season?

If snow wasn’t cold,
Would it fall on summer picnics
and fall baseball games?
Would it tickle your nose?
Would it keep you home from school?

If you could go to a world
where snow wasn’t cold,

      would you?

I never look at the title;
no time for that.
I just jump right in,
even if I don’t know
what I’m reading.