Sangrias on Saturdays,

a better way,

we got sicker,

the stairs spiraled,

quicker than a Winter's day








and a jet plane






is a

dalmatian




in a weird sort of way.




That was stupid



to sa-

vor

one sort of angle

over
another sort
of strangle
hold

would be a mistake,

one of great consequence,

something to wince at.


Keep wincing.


I know.


Red haired,

struttin' down that stage
like the Summer fox,

strummin' that
southern rock,

get me off, get me off!

I'm stuck

in love me mode

so give me

a good


night lullaby

and tuck me in-
at least.

freckle faced teenager, giddy up!
freckle faced teenager, give it up!

I'll be there,

I"ll be the one.

I'll feel hair

and I'll pull for fun.



Snow.


Roses.


Snow and roses,

Fall always forces
and I can never go back to
the cotton my blood was soaking in.

Snow and roses,
Fall always closes
and leaves me wanting.

I can never go back; ****
the rotten fruit our wine was soaking into.

Wooden swing, sandal toes.

Willows.

Swaying.

Sweet
water
running.

A silly, sinking feeling.

Sun saved Boat's neck.

Sun saved Boat from Night,
from shipwreck.

Harbored.

Beached.

Bobbing,
beat of red dawn drum,
tune of tangerine rind tenor.

Wheez.

Sea breeze.

Breathe.

Sugar soap.

Sun drop.

Exfoliate.

Poetry is dumb, like my thumb in your

Ear — I could have said ‘rear.’

Or my tongue

In your eye,

See, signifying

Blindness. I’m waxing poetic here.

Ink impressions

On paper,

That can’t be touched,

Or felt. Or smelt. And don’t get me started about the taste,

And how long it takes to eat a poem.

So, conclusion, thumb, ear, tongue, eye, eat a poem,

It’s ineffable.

As I wait for Daddy,
I am always hoping to be awake to greet my little laddie,
To always meet him at the door;
I hope to stay up one hour more!

To be there and him greet,
And at the front door meet,
Each time he leaves the house;
When he comes back I love following him around like a little mouse!!

It is something I have always done,
Even at rising or setting of the sun,
Sometimes it maybe afternoon or night;
To be there when he comes and say a sentence bright!!

*~Marian~

Sliminess of the mermaid, makes me come alive, strange?
don't blame me for this, that you would think an aberration,
I've long forgotten the human logic, from the moment I realized,
fate has joined me with her, the mermaid, a  longing unfulfilled for long,

This sensual yearning sans prospect of consummation, baffles others
but not me, life has many dark alleyways that go nowhere. 
Aren't we illusions ourselves?  Viewing sun's intense ways and moon's
hesitant tranquilizing gaze, through water's blue buffer is narcotic.
From under water only a  cool simmer , different experiences,
fish fin caresses, guilty pleasures of carousals with masked shark beauties,
underwater world has no pains, ever heard about
stilling pain by swimming long distant nights?
*Or is it because, I don't see my own teardrops shed underwater?