Grey coyote why do you cry such a sad song , are you blue from being misunderstood for o 'so long ?  Repentant for hard days and unforgiving cold nights , have you surrendered to the Winter Moon , are you cursed to perform the same sad tune ?
Cotton tail bunny what a huckleberry indeed , crouched beneath the tall grass , skipping from tree to tree ..
Playing games with the Red -tail Hawks , toying with your reflection in the blue farm pond ..
Carolina Hen , announcing her morning egg . Peckerwoods effectuate the same familiar rags ..
The same glorious stars light the January sky , the Sun falls asleep in Alabama tonight ..

she was the dance queen of the night
fragrant and exotic in her daily flight
from the bite of tropical night chills
under a starless sky and a pale moon
full of false vows that he would croon
with a granadilla fruit of raw passion
teasing his hungry eyes and keen nostrils
hot desire locked itself around their hearts
like a surreptitious granadilla creeper
entwining itself around a wooden lover
and soon the fruit of their passion had burst out
in a crescendo of dilated senses and smooth skin
she knew then that he was gone never to return:
the fabled passion fruit could be so very cloying

If the world were to end today,
I’d probably say to myself.
wow, looks like I only have 24 hours left in this world huh?
I’d spend the 1st half by grabbing my family members, give them the tightest hug I can give, and tell them that I love them, and thank them for everything. I’d probably apologize too.
And I’d probably start to shake, like a child craving for sugar.
All jittery, shaking from the thought, that I will only have 24 hours to figure out,
how to muster up the courage to tell you the things I’ve been wanting to say.
I’ve already done the math, and I’d be spending 2/3rds of my remaining time here, just getting to your house a midst the traffic.
and 3/4ths trying to bring you to the nearest mountain for us to watch the sunset, as the world crumbled away beneath us.

If the world were to end today.
I would grab my heart, whisper all the things I love about you,
seal it and then bury it into the depths of your existence.
In the hopes that when God is digging through the mine cave of your heart, he'll find it, and then open it like a time capsule, filled with all the things that we enjoyed, like cheese, long walks, spontaneous hangouts, and like our memories.
That when God opens it,
He’ll see a yellow sticky note, requesting Him to read it to you.
attached to a letter written in orange ink that I wrote specially for you.


If the world were to end today,
I’d like to get lost, In the spirals found in your eyes.
Your eyes is the number 1 thing in my list of favorite things.
Because they remind me of space, and galaxies that I would never ever get the chance to explore, knitted together by constellations that spell out your name.

And dear,
Our kiss will be like 2 galaxies colliding against each other,
Giving birth to a new galaxy.

But you know what, that got me thinking.
And I remember that when the big bang happened, or when a super nova happens.
That wasn't really the end of everything.
They all seem to signify a brand new start.
So I guess
The idea of the world ending, wouldn't bother me as much anymore.
Cause with us fading away,
Our molecules, atoms whatever we're composed of, will eventually find it's back to us.
And when that happens,
I'd be like a brand new star.
Because I know that i'd be able to see you again.
Like God saying again, "Let there be light." And there was light.

And for me that's like God saying again "Let there be you." And again there was you.

tonight
the wailing wind
is my bane
as i look through the pane
of the hard crust of my pain
and wonder how i got to be this way
a homeless drifter on an elite highway
exhaling cigarrette smoke like a chimney
in the numbness of a freezing winter spell
selling a dozen crabby tales for a quarter
to bored yuppies aching for kicks
along the stiff terrain they must negotiate
to reach the peaks i scaled before i fell from grace
the whispering breeze tonight
is my lullaby as i struggle to sleep on my feet
and capture these rare moments of life in heat
on a day when a girl's smile is everything
and a stale slice of bread makes me a gourmet
dining on the rancid cast-aways of a third rate cafe
the twinkling stars tonight
are my peers as we help each other through the night
and a call-of-the wild song keeps playing in my heart;
it says classics are melodies woven in moments of adversity
and that i must continue to hog the fringes of society
and *****-nilly help salve the consciences of those who need someone
to throw the rich crumbs of their excesses at

your father was a gambler
and the story of his life
clung to the seat of his pants
and the holes on his knees
your next meal was always
just a deal away on some nights
his hand was rock steady
his steely gaze was cold and firm
and not even the unattired thighs
of a jezebel could distract him
after he had sniffed the money
so you flourished in a home
that was a blooming oxymoron
with a hard-faced survivor
of many knife duels for a father
and a mother with a lovely face
and a mardi gras queen smile
my fickle heart was rather coy
and my tongue was quiet and still
when i should have sung your praises
and extolled your awesome virtues
and your resplendent face in the dusk
faint heart trembles at the altar of her grace
but brave buck walks to his fate with zeal
so i kneel and i meditate your serenity
wrought by art alive in your hungry heart