A woman is supposed to feel impressed when a man cries.
Ohhh, poor man.
He was moved to tears.
Or, rather, finally, he was unable to hold them back.
And a woman is supposed to feel impressed.

Mosquito's path
skittering 'cross
arm hairs,
loitering beyond
hearing range

Lazy flow'ry trail
leaving scent
a lovely cell

Celestial chanting
at conversation's edge

Dreams that steal 'way
in intimate folds
of everyday experience

All are discreet places
you may
hear my gentle call
to come home.

you tip toed
out of my life
surreptitious
back steps
softly with door
do not disturb
the dreams
hanging tenuous
from clouds
lest they sail to ground
no glint of light
on silver hair
hands so light
not to brush cheek
awaken senses
stilled breath
averting eyes
I might accidentally
lock them
causing you
to lose resolve
gently you left
while I dreamt
of horses
and winter
and hands locked together
oblivious to
impending thud
of dawn

Why ravage
precious time
on Earth
with complaints
and petty insults?
Like seeds of flowers'
summers spent,
the minutes sail on
careless breath
while waiting
for your
blessings.

I'm just a casualty of your carelessness,
the road **** of your love,
the curve that you could not quite make,
the shrunken blood-stained glove.

While you careened with wild abandon
upon those tree-lined country roads,
I grabbed the car wheel frantically
in desperate need to hold

onto a steady safe existence
a life line to salvation
and now it's you who toes the line
while I support creation.

Nonetheless,
you are the life line to my love,
I'm your unexpected guest.
There's nothing you can do to me
to put me out to rest.

Everytime I complain about something
I give away my power.