I don't like Haiku.
It doesn't work in English.
It sounds incomplete.

All about the night of my demise
Were visions of your terrifying eyes,
Natural lovers unnaturally bent to hate.
"Which of your loves?" asks God. I say, "Whichever.
Even empty eyes can penetrate.
I can love them all and love forever.
I only ask all promises be true.
The more I love, the more I can accrue."
To death and all of the promises it brings!
So many forevers with so many different loves;
"I raise your seventy-two virgins" the angel sings,
"Praise the holy **** in heaven above!"
I can't wait 'til promises are put to test
And finally, after "judgement", God can rest.

Rage, RAGE against the dying of the night.
Or Tiger, Tiger burning bright.
Am I even getting these poems right?
Or am I just afraid of flight?
I was being myself, outright
and nobody cared I lost my sight.
Am I myself when I ignite
the fiery hell of being right?
Or being myself can I be spite?
It's not my fault that I am white!

My darling. My sunshine. My love.
Right now you are across from me,
Eyebrows furrowed, nose deep in a book
With words and lines I will never truly comprehend,
I’ve tried, but they merely appear as squiggles.
And I keep falling in love with you,
With each blink of those gorgeous eyelashes.
With each breath I hear faintly but presently.
With each twitch your mouth dives in concentration.
With each flip of the page,
I keep falling in love with you.
I love you for the little things. The eskimo kisses, the inside jokes, the phone calls everyday, the brief but electric touches, the conversations, the way you remember things I’ve said years ago, how you wrap my hair around your fingers, how “I love you” sounds from your lips.
And as I watch you,
Concentrating. Focusing. Being that brilliant man I fell in love with years ago,
You have no idea I’m writing this.
I smile,
For maybe you’ll know. Or maybe you won’t.
But it won’t matter. Because I love you.

No thoughts, concerns, hesitations.
Worries can wait.
Happiness shouldn't.
Despite how fleeting it may turn out to be.

I'm happy with him.
Happy enough to forget
about the clouds that have a tendency
to settle into the snug horizon.

He's like a red balloon
that keeps me looking up.
Distracted from all the cracks in the pavement
that make me trip.
Oblivious to the wavering skies.
Focused solely on keeping my eyes
on patterns of movements.
Memorizing this new thing.
Piloting something unknown.

Let's refrain from using maps that lead down past paths.
I'll use my sense of adventure to navigate my way.
Illuminate the trails
with the colors of your mind.
If I get lost, I'll anchor down in your arms.

Clutching each of these moments
with a ferocity that
most will never understand.

Let them question why
I'm staring at reflections of light
through a bit of plastic.
They'll never know
that you gave me rainbows.

All the more reason to look at the bright-side.