poetry* like ***
you and me
hell let's make it three
let us find the perfect word
and ride it to the end.

in a spirited fervor
a tornado of limb and lip
tearin up the town, unabashed poetry.

exposed, we dive soul-first into the inkwell
in the distance, a tsunami approaching
tension builds underneath the surface
submerged in our wave, the rhythm takes hold

clouds collide
a warning signal
a thunderous revolt
white hot poetry
strikes again.

for this exercise
imagine the earth is a balloon.
neglect to hold on, like a particle of dust it floats on.
hold too tight, it will surely meet a supernova plight.
a thunder of cosmic dust particles float on.

so comes into question the integrity of tension and slack.
balance, rhythm, harmony.

I carve out of the earth, an empty space.
year after year I sweat my salty soul into the earth-space.
earth from which I came, earth in which I live, in which I will return.
the earth fills, an icy mirror of tears.
my reflection surfaces-
be vigilant not to sever the roots that pump lifeblood into my veins.
not to poison the leaves that breathe initiative into my lungs.
welcome with parted lips the sweet sap to sustain and inspire.

wisps of hair float across your face
as you uproot a strand of prairie grass
and clasp your hands 'round it, bring it to your lips, and blow

In a wild meadow
I stand with you
in cutoff levis patches on the knees
cottonmouth and butterflies in my yellowbelly

Long after the cotton gin.
Still remains,
a thicket 'round your soul

a place a place
a place to hold space

one day i might just stumble upon
this elusive..
mapped in my brain since youth
an all-consuming sweet tooth

a place a place
a place to leave no trace

fragmented and fuzzy, like the first blinks of the morning
some particular details carved out of this elusive..
some vague idea bordering these particular details

a place a place
a place to call home base

this single earthly pulse
is lemon-slice palatable.
palms to earth, pulse to pulse.
the table is set and now we dine.

on the horizon
paled hair, long and flowing and silvery in the winter sun
it sways in rhythm with your stride
your eyes a clouded blue, yet piercing and bright
brows thick and straight
ears pink from the cold, jut out from either side of your face
freckles kiss your forehead, your wind-chapped cheeks, nose, and chest
a strong and elegant body
hands, large calloused and worn reveal you are a child of the earth
your jaw cuts a sharp line as your head turns to meet mine
you smell of fallen leaves, of pine forests, campfire, and morning dew.
your red flannel is worn thin
in the spot where I find peace
once again.