"Seriously man,
green cat eyes.
I kept losing myself
in them.
I don't know."

But what is it.

"Like when they look,
they really look.
You get me?
Think a sun's ray
in a dusty room,
like that,
but green."

There's more.
How can I put it.

"And her nose,
man it's the smallest
cutest nose I've ever seen.
And you don't doubt it,
because she's probably
never even lied.
How could she?
What with those green eyes."

Beauty is truth etc. Well it's not.
And this pub ain't no place
for pottery.

"And her hair man, her hair.
It's so curly, all tangled up
and wild. But my fingers
run through smooth.
And she purrs man."

I want to rub her belly.

"Ahhhh I just..
I just.. I don't know really.
I just can't get away from
those green eyes."

Such empty words.
Just the skeletal sounds.
I'm missing that sun and moon
and bluest blue. But I think he understands.
We all do when someone is really trying
but just can't,
when expression moves inward.

"I don't know man."

Tonight
it's foggy
and I'm
nostalgic for things
that haven't yet
happened.

If you have to be what
you eat I'll just have
those dandelions that
float away when you
blow on them, or a
yard of silk that
flutters in the wind. Just
anything to help me fly.

I tried to
write
a poem about you
but instead
I scribbled a
big, orange-ink blob
and I figured
that made
just as much sense.

burn the light of fire
and wax the ears of injustice.

chide the moon
and bid ado to the reckless sun.

count the blessings of misfortunes
and wave verbs in the air--
breathing the hopeful breaths of married sandals

Label the pains of a billion rain drops and fawn the feathers
of a nightingale over the glory of failed
triumphs known as yesterday.

break the hands of a wristwatch and make a ******* of time--
for through the God in Satan was how Earth was won.