She purrs on my couch,
     But she’s not my cat.
     She’s simply –
         Waiting; and
          a’Happy barbed anxious,
          Come the , “tap-tap-tap,”
          Of this something-sort-of
          “Poetry.”

She scratches her ankle,
     For even the mosquitos admire her.
     She’s entirely –
          And perfect;
          Ivory a’constellation freckles,
          Come the, “tap-tap-tap,”
          Persistent, patient in the face of
          this something-sort-of “Poetry.”

She smiles seconds and seconds again later,
     For the music, the words and I.
     She’s the one –
          The One;
          That makes me whole,
          That mothers our son,
          And is the sun, the star atop my
          “tap-tap-tap;”

She’s Poetry.

Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root,
Cocoa in pods and alligator pears,
And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit,
Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs,

Set in the window, bringing memories
Of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills,
And dewy dawns, and mystical blue skies

My eyes grew dim, and I could no more gaze;
A wave of longing through my body swept,
And, hungry for the old, familiar ways,
I turned aside and bowed my head and wept.

when galaxies surround
and gravity's unbound

and I'm floating in the midst
holding tightly to your wrist

and there is wonder in my eyes
because your face has told no lies

I hold you close so I can feel
if your heartbeat's even real

and press my lips against your cheek
because my heart is growing weak

against the love-tide rising
your presence prizing

above all else

i wouldn't know what it's like
to feel the world
staring down my back
trying to find the soul
in all i do

nor do i want to feel
in me
those heartless eyes
look through your actions
like a sneaking spy
with files in the night

tell me when i'm losing you
to pictures in my mind
framing you inside the frail confines
of a dime

to cheapen souls costs money
that
the worth of knowing facts
cannot repay

its you i'm waiting for
not figures.
you i want to hold
not files
in a file-drawer
with keys to keep the door

Keeper of the meaning
      Mindfulness a prelude
           The struggled literature
  it asked the way
The keeper,  
    contemplating the path
          Stopped to think about
       Natural things
Asking elders on the trail
Creating triads
         Depicting aspects  
                  of her answer
    To the question
What it means
And some;          
  were enlightened
             And air and breath and beauty
       Wrought wrath
Indigenous justices
    Things worth keeping
          To the keeper of meaning