From the subtle strokes
of a solemn wrist.
I can see so much
of her on this page.

It could be sadness,
or laughter.
Love sonnets,
or groceries.

Like her eyes,
I get lost
in the flow
of her lines.

❦

I want to feel as though my heart has been dipped in hot wax.
Layer, upon layer,
A sharp heat at first, until cooling begins and I begin to
relax.
I want to feel captured in an intricate, never-ending puzzle,
around every corner there's wonder,
and I am taken aback.
I want nothing short of hopeless passion,
to sell my soul in a mysterious fashion.
I am so sick of my heels over my head,
my feet placed so firmly on the ground.
No longer can I lay alone here in bed and be
content.
This drifting must come to an
end.
This wax heart must feel
again.

A fluffy skunk scurried across my path
Startled me greatly
if he could
he would have laughed
at the misfortune of the dog owners
who's K9s startled him
to the extent he startled me
enough to make him spray
all over
his putrid stink
coating the pups
who now so badly stunk
what a maniacal skunk
who seemed as though he had not a care in the world

I want to write
like music makes me feel.
So strong, so profound,
meaningful and free.
I wish to experience life
like a cinematographic masterpiece.
Every detail precariously perfected.
Every color, every scene, flawless.
I want to view the world
like a surrealist's painting.
Abstract, and pleasing,
Intriguing,
knowing there's more than meets the eye.

Let’s cut down that tree,
and strip it of it’s bark.

Take that axe and hack
every limb until we hear
only the sound of crushed
leaves beneath our boots.

I am one of many, my
seeds have met the soil.
It will take much more
than that to stop
the giving of oxygen.

So much more than an axe
to stop us reaching for the Sun.

I glided through
the diaphanous breeze
with a desolate hope
that I would find my
way through the haze.

I stopped to rest,
finding solace  
in the pounding
syllables of the sea
where I could see your
glimmer in every wave.