Kept out of bars
On St. Paddy's Day
With a thirst from
Here to Ireland
But the bench
Is at a 120˚ angle
Which allows the moon
To remain in your view
While looking across the ocean

Waited up all
Night for a
Bloodmoon
But the clouds
Cauterized the
Gaping sky

Green face paint.
Little conversations.
Budding love
with no complications.
A warm blanket
laid over me.
My cheeks are flushed
I feel oddly giddy.

Look-
then look away.

For we cannot see
when I look at you,
when you look at me.
That was the beginning,
let us know no end
because life is a story
and you are holding the pen.

what is if (does the who why) and?

me perhaps you perhaps the trees
(and thousands of them(i have seen)
and thousands more await
each day as grass of us
belched of cloven stuff foil'd
'bout the neatness of gravestones)

there is a garden
and i have been amongst who
the stems of it sleeps girls
in their skin awake;

in their skinny awake
on unsure knees
ushering

boysandgirls

to and fro

toandfro boys and girls

go into each other their lips and out comes the Earth.

the ******* are i love the way it's.
the and it
the does way
(forked dolllike riven).


                                                                                                     ?suppose ouy od


                             why not some let's the?

                            



                           (and maybe even harder)

stop enjoying the beautiful things other people make.

start making the beautiful things other people enjoy.

Ah yes, a
poem about
love loss
and confused
intention
yes, it seems
that some of
us don't see
the orchids in
the garden shaking
what they got,
Oh! to be a flower
in spring