I am wheat
I cry, I cry
Again
You leave your dead
At my feet
Oh why, oh why

At Gettysburg
We cried
Again, again
They rose and died
Below our stalks
They lie, they lie

From Stalingrad
To Leningrad
One million dead, one million dead
The Panzers came
Wheat fields aflame
They burned, they burned

And once again
You leave your dead
Ukraine, Ukraine
Oh, Putin's shame
The innocent lie
In wheat, in wheat.

r ~ 7/19/14

You’ve been running underneath the stitches of my baseball caps,
resting in the pockets of my t-shirts, and
etched into the glass of my contacts
where the sun sometimes glares and makes me dizzy.
You left your aroma on my pillows,
scratch streaks on my back,
and chocolate covered bruises on my neck
that make my mouth water every time I look at them.

And out of your mouth
fell raindrops from the storm inside your chest.
Touching my lips
I woke from the dreams of night to the dreams of day,
discovering the softest of gold upon my own.
Smelting fortunes of two destines hot to the touch
as dropping the ball like Auld Lang Syne
but there’s never enough time,
never enough time
looking forward or back
universe stops in its tracks as I look into your eyes.

Sometimes you’re telling me a story
and all I can hear are X’s and O’s.
No pencil or paper but tic-tac-toes tickling mine,
sending shooting stars up my spine.
These crooked feet started from point A and
I’m trying to make it all the way to U.
But if this alphabet becomes too bothersome
then let’s make a language of our own.

Believe me the rest will follow
like we have Chinese finger traps bridging our hands,
when pulling away reminds us how we're a lot like rubber bands.
Piggy-backing through the wild with cat-like vision and dog-like devotion
we’ll learn to speak to our inner animals because
humanity has become a little overrated these days.
So when I find your beast under the sheets
I will pull off its leash with my bear teeth.
Excuse my scrambled tongue for
filterless words can fall off my lips like butter on warm cinnamon toast,
I've never remembered being so hungry for something.

My mouth is beginning to sweat and
you’re mouth held raindrops when we met.
So when your tongue touched mine it sparked the perfect storm.
A hurricane drowning out the past
leaving a life boat for two. Four hands
building a mast, searching for land, gripping the forecast.
Sailing on top of natural disasters,
to find a world better than the one left underneath us.

A long haul flight from Amsterdam
that never made it to the end
NO! No the innocents died
when the pressure from the finger was applied
to that simple button
No, their lives never ended in the explosive flash
that caused that mighty plane to crash
They fell over 30,000 feet
they knew there was no hope
The shattered wreck their funeral pyre
dreams gone up in smoke
80 children died there in that war torn land
never to fulfill their destiny
their shattered remains spread over a foreign land

Yes... The innocents died... But for what?

What is it with society
it can't leave girls alone
to be the way they want to be
they have to **** and moan...

"Now this one she's too skinny
with a blatant lack of ***
legs stolen from flamingos
and arms like two matchsticks.."

"Now this one's far too chubby
observe her thunder thighs
see her wobble as she's walking
it's clear who ate all the pies.."

"Now see the tattooed freakshow
flesh tunnels, garb of black
in burly boots and trenchcoat
she must be taking crack.."

"and what of lil Miss sunkissed
with her streaky perma-tan
who dresses like a two bit *****
but never keeps her man.."

A war on flaws is raging
as media fuels the flame
mixed with the tongues of gossips
it gets stronger everyday
we're taught to judge a person
by looks and shape alone
regardless of their inner selves
their talents, dreams and goals
It really is a worry,
to watch our young girls grow
bowed under weight and pressure
with self esteem so low.

So tell them that they're beautiful
it's not too much to ask
and please be sure to tell them
that the media's an ***!

Slow like planets I’ll come,
as certain as glaciers and disease
a lovely plague upon this land
of fungus and food-bearing trees.
There is an age to matricide.
300 million years ago,
a paramecium split
and split again.
That was when we invented death.
It has been several decades since
that formation of the stars
and the felicity of orbits
maligned into recognizable shapes:
a crab, a pair of brothers
sharing a life.
One day I’ll ascend
to where the hydrogen obey me
and the slight edge of this
great earth releases my soul
and falls and falls and falls.

As we lie dying
the little death,
pull me close
beneath your chin
and hold me tight.
Breathe me in,
feel my heat,
wear me warm
like a well worn blanket.
I will weave you a dream
of dyed wool, desert moons
and a Paiute wind.
I'll dream us through
this long night.
Wrap yourself in me
and rest easy.
Breathe me in,
sleep in me, wear me
like you need to.
And when you awake
I'll still be here
like the desert moon
in a Paiute wind.

r 7/15/14

Underneath the painted rock
you'll find a key
I ain't much for hiding
but that's just me
There's a book of pomes (yeah, pomes)
beneath my pillow
You might find one or two
to your liking
But that's a'right if you don't
I wrote 'em
for you, any ol' way
Come September
if I don't remember
where I hid my key
That book of pomes'll be
still beneath my pillow
If you care
to take a read.

r ~ 7/12/14

Throwing words
like tossed pebbles
at his window
in the clouds-

no one home
but the rain
and the wind
that blew once-

once for you-
I threw pebbles
at the clouds
just for you.

r ~ 7/10/14