To my friends
who can write
fresh-smelling
bouquets of words
with splendid color,
I offer my envy.
Mine are the blunt, stunted words,
rooted in the cracks
in pavement,
or forcing their way
to light around
overbearing rocks.
Some useful
in their own way,
edible or flavorful,
some with a
pedestrian beauty,
but few that one
would bring home in a bunch
with a box of candy.
More appropriate
in a grimy, young fist
crumpled in love,
destined to be vased
in a water glass
by a doting mother,
or shredded petal by petal
for the sake of soothsaying...
he loves me, he loves me not.

Maybe someday our
kindred spirits will cross
paths and ignite our lonely
hearts we thought would never glow.

midnight thoughts and wasted eyes
waiting for the sun to rise
owls are howling, so depressed
the morning light will be our guest

dosen’t matter if we’re drunk or sober
wasted nights in late october
leaves are floating down to earth
feeling like we’re nothing worth

It's funny to remember
You loved someone;
The feeling foreign,
Awkward in hand,
Rotting in a way,
But beautiful in yesterday
Or week
Or month, or year -

A decade even -
So far
But not too distant
To remind you
To stay far enough away.

You are the sun and you are the moon;
I hold you to the highest regard
at every wake and at every sleep.
I miss you on the days I don’t rise,
but you always rise,
regardless of the weather.
I solely like rain.
I like the way your condensation
pours over me
when we are in between the sheets,
the madness of the storm between your pelvis,
thrusting thunder and lightning bolts into my bones
and I’m ignited with the blaze
you course through my body.
Your touch leaves me with
burn marks
trailing my thighs
to follow back into the bed
where we lay together
and it reminds me
I need the rain to so desperately put me out
when you set over the hills
and run away from me again.
You’re so different at night.
You’re cool and quiet, but you’re so cool.
You have the stars
and the comets
and the constellations
and the Milky Way,
but you choose my terrestrial body
every single time
you come out.
You remove clouds
and whisper through the stillness in the sunset
to bask in your luminescence with you,
just one more time,
the last time,
tonight.
With a sliver under my nose and above my chin,
I watch
the stars dance on you,
the comets open their legs for you,
the constellations bend over for you,
the Milky Way wrap her arms around you,
but you,
you are a constant and never move.
We hold our stare like the lights will go out
and I stand in the moon light with you
just to cringe in the sun with you
the next day
and the next day
and the next day
and the next day.
And we do this
and I keep a part of you
hanging on my lips,
the crescent that never fades.