She woke, shivering in the dark of night
Wary of the long shadows on the wall
Flicking on the pink hued tulip nightlight
To forget the monster with one eyeball
The giant teddy bear with sharpened claws
The troll that sneered and chased her down the street
The King Kong turtle with quick snapping jaws
The freckled boy who ate her ice-cream treat
She runs down the cold hall to Mommy’s room
She turns the **** and tiptoes to her bed
“I had a nightmare,” the little girl croons.
“Shhh, it was only a dream,” Mommy said
She tucks her in and rocks her back to sleep
Years later she wakes alone, cold and naked
Her dreams a waking truth; the woman weeps
Resenting all the precious years wasted
From room to room she walks the barren halls
There is no one. Only an empty house
With silent photos hanging on the walls

Rockabye babies
Our mothers our dead
In the tree tops
We lay down our heads

When the wind blows
They shut all the doors
The cradle will rock
Our clothes are all torn

When the bow breaks
We’re hungry, alone
The cradle will fall
We wished for a family, but now we’re too tall

sacred silence hangs on angel wings
blessing, watching over wakened night
fluttering on the screen, drawn to the light of
consciousness, the truth of darkened mornings.
strong, alone, remotely flipping through the
channels of the restless bar-room soul
charles bukowski, angry, drunk and droll;
pavement wisdom yanked inside, renewed and
resurrected.  rolling stone lays open,
having sprung the latent-night messiahs
preaching to insomniacal choir.
cryptic muse's recipe for coping:
be consumed, entombed, re-wombed by
worshiping and feeding written fire.

dear future lover,

please know that i'll forever be immature

i'm pretty good at literature

oh, and i'm a lover of nature

and i love finding the cure for boredom.

so ta-dum!

with love,
h
e
   r.

I forget what speaks louder of you;
if it is the hunger of my lips
longing to kiss you
or the kiss waiting discretely
to be born from yours
swaying on the verge of vulnerability

I forget if it is the kiss
that tender
and irresistible
becomes unbreakable;
your soul’s assent

or if it is the words in note
the morning writes and you erase
in an innocent attempt to
hesitate your truth
pausing at its tip

or the shrug
off your left shoulder blade
that briefly masks your will
before it is abandoned
at the edge of quiet moments
when you heed without refrain

It is the candidness of silence wept
to carry the ripest, sweetest kiss
onto my wanting lips
without disturbing yours
 in truth
unrelentingly
and quietly insatiable

Beyond the thoughts
that keep us bound
fear
suffering
anger  
love
we will fly
though it be fleeting

we savor
the height
while craving
the ground below
knowing
it takes both
to make
a soul

its futile to sing you the song I think you want
wisdom is to sing my song
and let it be heard where it will

We crash through
Class V relationships
with no life jacket
emerge waterlogged
and disintegrating
only to blunder through
thorny undergrowth
while searching empty
pockets for some
kind of map
to this always
foreign territory.