I was born in a city
Moved to other cities
Lived on both coasts
Hung with celebs
Loved and lost

Almost died a few times
Moved to the country
Generations of fowl
Sons born dogs died
Lost her love
Tears in the fields
Almost died a few times
Saw your face
Awoke to light
Followed the dream
Met you
Will never die

It's getting cold,
November cold
and the shoulders shiver
But the ground is not all
that gets hard
the body stiffens
the danger of cracking ensues
as winds blow
through the crevices
never entirely sealed
And that is my soul

Bring me warmth, friction
|and fire

You’re a dream in a land of
black and white
in a cast of characters
created by
an active imagination
and the random
source of light.
I read into you,
think about you,
float in the thoughts,
wander in your shadow.

Count all your fingers
twenty times
turn your head to the left
take a deep breath
exhale
taste your lips
open your eyes
close your eyes
pull your shoulders
back so your clavicles
are defined
flex a thigh muscle
gently touch your cheek
with your index finger
arch your back
smile
there I am.

If you ever thought of waiting
for a special moment,
don’t wait now,
there is no forever,
only the next few moments
are available
and the only way they will last
an eternity is if you attend
to them now.

There is a color
in the sky
late in the afternoon
that would escape
the eye of Picasso.

There is comfort
in that color
and I need it to
embrace me
and make me strong
so I can become
that color.
You.

the world had moved a bit more slowly
and paths were crossed
differently, paved through
a sky less clouded
and if the rivers had flowed
with warmer currents
following the winds that could
have blown more slowly to the west
and that butterfly in Singapore
had flapped its wings three or
maybe two times less ...

you would be mine.