Delicately you place your words, beautifully moulded, a true window too your soul
Exposed to the world courageously
Pegged out for all to see like silky knickers on the line

I envy such craft

My words are crudely hacked from the dictionary and flung from the shoulder like the carcass of some unwanted vermin
Left in the dust for the circling vultures to swoop down and pick to the bone

But I am just a chrysalis waiting in my cocoon

One day I shall become refined
One day I shall find the honey and not the sting
One day I shall sow my words like seeds
I shall watch them burst into a thousand different colours and dance playfully in the meadows breeze.

Sitting here with him
There is nowhere else
I would rather be.
Listening to his steady heartbeat
As I see the sunbeams dance on his hair.
The rays catching the corners
Of his blue green eyes
And my soul is in awe of the beauty
That he possesses.
If he only knew that at this moment
When I see him,
My mind is overwhelmed
By the simple extravagance
And exquisite wonders
That he carries so humbly within him.

There's a blind man on the corner
That keeps staring at me
As the dog that's sitting by his side
Keeps whispering in his ear

I know their talking about me
Cause the blind man keeps nodding his head
I'm not paranoid or anything
At least I don't think that I am

I keep straining hard to listen
But to many words do I miss
At this very moment
I wish I could read dog lips

As if this couldn't get any stranger
A bus pulls up to the curb
Out steps Wayne Newton
And before he utters a word

He pulls a cat out of his bag
With a sharp chill on the wind
The cat and the dog both hug
They appear to be the best of friends

As if this is not strange enough
The blind man drops the leash
The cat picks it up
As he and the dog skip off down the street
Where they're picked up for jay walking by the Chief of Police

Wayne Newton gave a concert
With the money we paid their bail
When it came time for their release
They were no longer in jail

All there was was a tunnel
With a blank note left behind
Cause everybody knows
Cats and dogs can't write

Last that I heard
They had a Villa in the South of France
Where they took in blind mice
And taught them all how to dance
Which started a new dance craze called
The "Blind Mice Dance Like They Got Ants In Their Pants" Dance

The lonely little girl in me
Wants to hug the scared little boy in you
Until you stop being scared and I stop being lonely.

But this is a grocery store.
And you are a stranger buying cauliflower.

you
manifested on mourning swells
all too soon. a slow fade

grayed over our blue sea
and your green eyes.

i hope you feel

                                        missed.



                                           *mzf

I never liked sitting on porches.
My father did
and sometimes my mother too.
I wondered,
are they really in love.
One might think so
if he passed down the street
toward the sunset
and happened to look over his shoulder
and see my mother's head
propped against my father's neck.
He might even hasten his step
into the oranges & reds & purples
with a new outlook,
hoping to find love
or maybe even a different life;

but
I know
that when it got cold and dark
my mother would come in
with her eyes on the floor
pretending to call our dog
(her way of praying)
until she made it to the kitchen.

For dinner
she cooked with onions
because she cared about us too much
to stay out on the porch
and look up past the stars.



                                                *mzf

I believe in the language
of everyday, and words
unencumbered by misinterpretation.

It's an added perk
that
*******
means as much
as it sounds.