your eyes
of orchids
maybe lotus...
they float



                      detached




stars perhaps.

                      a ship set sail
                                              longing...

y­ou
a pixie’s playground
or a forest,
a child’s castle
or a tree
              (it's all the same to you)



innocence
in essence;
inevitably transcends
to me

(unworthy)       I must decline,
                            my beauty;
                            so humble
                            remarkable

your eyes*
of lillies...



or lilacs
cannot describe
the          (elegance)
the          (delicacy)

the beauty
                   of your eyes.

.
                                                  (what occupies
                                                   behind those eyes tonight?) 

(it's almost morning time)


 
well I can’t sleep with the dog barking in my ear
but I promise I can sleep without you here

though maybe I could do without the thunderstorms of the room
next door
and sometimes hurricanes spit fires in the hallway
and I can’t extinguish flames which rise from the sea...

but please don’t worry about me
my dear
I’ll be fine without you here



(I know you’re wondering,
               the waves thrash only harder with time,
                                                I know you’re pondering….)


I promise I’ll be fine


(promise me you’ll love that dog–)




                                      I promise.
                                      we’ll be
                                      fine

.

we had this identical spat of words
not thirteen hours ago,
in my dimly lit room, with your dimly lit eyes;
I am sure I had wondered if you were present at all.
as desires spilled from my guts
and into empty space to linger,
I am sure they had not entered your ears
because those eyes were on my cigarette and the fruit fly
buzzing ‘round and ‘round.
I wandered to the bathroom sink to stare at my face;
I pretend to be you
and pretend to care about me.
lather, rinse, repeat to get my hands clean,
once, perhaps twice, and I am free;
but how much repetition will it take for you to hear me?

o’ face of wicked mystery, with suffering comes you slyly to fool me
with your trickery and play with my naivete.
acquire what you wish of me, some jewelry or my first baby?
such graciousness is never free
                              (however gracious you may be)
                                                      so listen to my one last plea, I will not beg upon my knees;
with revelation you must flee.

even the kindest of honeybees will be crushed under the weight of rubber and cloth, a man lacking consideration, appreciation; though he has motivation for the adaptiation of our world in his view, when he steps upon that which composes our earth it is our cue. I know, my friends that condemnation is not what we’d like to see for our nation and as we yearn for preservation while our knowledge moves t’ward annahilation we acquire starvation, gain taxation, and yet we do not question our nation. I will do nothing less than scream liberation; yes, the time has come for our salvation.