You see that? Moonbeams. The path is lit lightly.
My hand grazes yours. You reach for it tightly.
Its dark. You knew that. But I spoke so softly,
It slipped past your ears then eased all your fears
So we went walking.

There’s silence, stillness. Can you hear the cool breeze?
Slowly draw still, for there's an end to the trees.
But I've been here before and you can't ignore
That subtle night wind and the scent of warm skin
Will you have a seat, please?

It starts with that sitting. The liking of kind.
It will end with you writhing, out of your mind.
But we aren't there yet, so don't you forget
That these games are for two, (...Just who are you?)
and you can feel us... pulsing in time.

The night is bright, thick. The air is slowing, thus heavy.
I don’t say any words, we know that you’re ready.
There dashes tongue. Ah, You think you’re the one-!
You gasp. Pull your hair, in my grasp
You feel below and it is true, solid and steady.

Relax. You won’t fall, these arms steady all.
Keep breathing, let go. Your voice, stalls
Taken in, so you win. Is this what they call sin?
You so, so wanted, so I came to you undaunted
By anything other than lusts call.

Is that your voice? Darling, why can’t you speak?
I’m not even close, but have you hit your peak?
Ah, you shake. Some small little body-quake.
But you are not won! Oh this is so fun!
You’ll smell of this *** for weeks.

Then I ask, “Are you done?”, No response, stunned.
Glazed, unmoving. Somehow you were one?
I’ve done it before. Yes, there will be more for
I’ll never be satisfied, but should I not try?
As I move back from the coming sun.

Mama, can I have one more bowl of chili?
I'd like to have some before you go.
Only you can make it the way I like it,
So can I please have some more?

Mama, is there any left?
I called but you're not there.
Did you leave the recipe?
Did you know? Did you care?

Mama, you're not answering.
I finished the final bowl,
Can you make some one last time?
Can you please pick up the phone?

Mama, please, please pick up the phone.
Your chili's hot and alive,
And I’m so cold and alone.

To You;

To you; possessed of such a tempting grace,
moving so sublimely through star-struck space;
Can I ask of you this quiet question-
Why do those sad tears frame that flawless face?

What’s the reason for that careless lesson
that laces your well-controlled complexion?
Have you, through some finally-found fancy
been shown the harsh meaning of rejection?

Maybe, you dreamt of a light romancing
Under the moons bright, fatal faerie-fire
Its sight telling tales of your desire,
Your sad love ethereal- Transient?

No? I didn’t think that the murky mire
That we call “Love” would have you trapped today-
To make such stories of these fallen fae,
As an excuse to perform worn word-play---

Or! Maybe, it’s some other telling tale
That put you into this unjust travail-
And left you with those mislaid streaks
Across a face falling pallid and pale.

Had your plans reached the goal- that high peak,
Then plunged; wasted - leaving you worn and weak
With no way out, no truly clear choices,
No way to gain the happiness you seek?

Did you want a house with joyful voices,
A backyard echoing lilting laughter?
Has some callous event foreclosed that chapter
Filling your soul with some private poison?

No, I don’t think that’s what I‘m after.
You’re not being held by some coarse constraint-
Nor your body filled with some tragic taint
that would leave you so faltering and faint.


Do you long for adventuresome release,
Your daily work having no such surcease-
And staring entranced-so at the stratus,
You dream of those mighty in name and deed?

Those stories, the ones that you always read-
Do they make you long for that single pleasure,
Proof of beauty and things unseen, proof of need-
Proof of some fantasy beyond measure?

The sacrosanct is in those clouds so rare.
Don’t lose faith in finding the forever,
And magic is there, suspended in air
As long as you don’t consider never.

Maybe, I could help in your endeavor,
Together, a meeting of star-bright minds-
Rhyme after rhyme, perhaps we will find
A path that will meld fantasy and time.

So Lady, giving thought where it’s due then,
I can only tell you this plight of Men
And be it my damning declaration,
I will never let you be hurt again!

You will never want for stone or station,
Nor need to seek some other relation.
If the dreary dusk deigned to mar your mood,
To make a Sun, I’d master creation!

To your beauty I would always allude,
(The runic tint to those even-ether eyes)
Only to the lay does the truth not soothe –
No comparison would bespeak of lies;

So Lady, let my love for you give rise,
To the dawning of our sublunary Sun!
For you; My suitors pledge that come what come,
On my honor, my life; Thy will be done!

Fall
I
I've had one to many summers,
And now they've lost their luster.
Fall, however, I've just discovered
And the amber, the gold, forever!

II
Here I wait for Autumn.
September's trees will die.
October comes, and will hide the sun,
under gray blue skies.

III

She sounds a simple ringing tone,
Rife with wind and reeling reeds.
It is calm, cool and moans
With subtle singing needs.
The trees, they fight and fail
The winds will wound their worth,
The leaves will burn, below we learn
The chant of, “Autumn’s Birth”

As the skies start to singe and sear,
And slowly lower, linking the earth and sky-
That sunset to those trees that wept
With their leaves aflame, We must cry,
“Some will seek the sun in the summer,
Some seek the sights and scents of spring
Others will welcome warmth in winter,
But what does our Autumn Bring?
Well, those who tend towards tenuous things
Will find their fantasies fulfilled in fall,
All that they do, meaning to you
Is to feel that Autumnal call-
That of the leaves that fall.”

IV
'Twas a fine fall day, perfect for reflection.
Autumnal hues gently layered the scene.
My Lady and I traveled no particular direction;
Enchanted by nature's artistic perceptions,
We stared awestruck at the trees.


V
This period, Fall (As in Autumn),
restlessly breeds feelings.

Noted: The red, adorned northwestern
festival found wild colour.This Autumn,
colors gathered- Celebrations of the
Indian Season.

The Fall has undergone sorrow states,
(Associated? Death.)
echo the thick mid-autumn leaves.

Today I dreamt a magic word
And conjured it into being-
Then set about showing the world
That it contained some meaning.
To flustered ears, the dismal cry
Of nonsense capturing thoughts,
Breaking syntax and doubtful sighs
Unwilling to change what they'd been taught.
But they couldn't learn, had no avail
And simply couldn't comprehend
That the source of language's travail
Is what the imagination portends.

Today, I have encountered something enchanting
Flowing through the outer forest, alighting
With birds and deer, All flora/fauna delighting
In her presence. I was taken to demanding
From myself a further look, reprimanding
my soul for wanting to see more of this beauty
Who could she be? This brown woman, set to soothing
my sailors heart? With another wayward glance,
She vanished- Leaving behind a memory, a missed chance;
And a man with knees too weak to stand.

Do you think...
That maybe,
We’re not alone?
That we’re never so useless
As to be zero sum?

Do you think...
That maybe,
We reap what we’ve sown?
That what goes around, comes around
As all goes to one?

Did you think...
That maybe,
They actually loved you?
Without you ever doing the things
That needed to be done?

Do you think, too much?
Do you think, too much?