Give her more and more space
To be her own woman.

Give her room to grow.
Give her room.  

Independence is as solid a
Foundation to build a life upon

As any. Just make sure she sees
Your intention as is.

Dependence will drive her to think
You stopped caring.

Dependence will fool her into
Seeing it as birth. Of an ending.  

Dependence is no walls; no roof,
No floor.

Give her room to grow.
Give her *room.

On the rough handrail
Leading up to the barracks-
Where the guys eat lunch

There's a growing gap in the
2x4 -from them carving
Themselves toothpicks.

Everything has potential
For something else
Within.

these are the questions
i ponder on a friday afternoon
after a few mango beers

do slugs get to volunteer to be snails or vice versa?

do you think, tadpoles grieve for their tails?

are the black and white
goldfish, aware of the colour
of their skin?

do polar bears, in captivity,
miss the ice fishing?

do lions get jealous, of how
cushy housecats get it?

why does nobody ever ask,
does my head look to big in this book?

yep..... i know ....deep

I know that sound.
It's the same all over the world.
Vast spaces filling up with
Noise, smoke and flashes.  

Closer. Closer until close.
Then there.

I know your face like
The palm of my hand held out
From under the roof of your
Porch.

Somebody's gotta say it.
It's raining.
Poets stating the obvious to
Each other, like it's all one poem
Or another,

As poets do.

Nothing like the darkness
Swallowing blue sky. Nothing
Like lightning swallowing that  
Darkness in high voltage gulps
Of fierce celestial appetite.

I sip at your soul as our hands meet;
Mouths on the tips of our
Fingers nibbling kisses.

If your heart was a crime scene,
They wouldn't find a single print
Of mine after dusting.

But I was there.

The rain washes nothing away
That hasn't promised to return.
And I do strike twice; even
Knowing the third one

Would put me away for good.

I'd be behind bars and bolts.
Your face flashing
Before my eyes.
In love like an electric storm.
Guilty as
Charged.