look
oh, look
what have we here?
a scene of
Fate's young rival

with twists and turns
& pirouettes
she's kept up with
survival

she danced on coals
of hit and miss
with feet bare as
temptation

to land upon the
other side
with no room for
revelation

I shall forever fear the
fiends
that would dare to tear
apart your
ribcage
if you failed to lend them
their desires
for I've a heart that
can ache for
miles

as it often has for you

et tu,
wild blue yonder?
I've not been
fonder
of another

you sink into me
as thunder


an echo


& a quake

the shifting season engineers
my essence
sighing becomes more
articulate
& less derived from
aching

our rugged hearts
still manage to
sail above
the cresting waves
& the spice of laughter
at dusk
fuels our late lit
flames


I could ask for nothing
more

sunlight lips
haven't brushed her skin
as harsh today
& the valley behind corporate
America
doesn't smell as vile

she longs to pick wildflowers
& gentle silence from this
green shelf
& take them home to her
sweet boys

if only the rush of autumn
were enough to quell
trouble

the insects still greet
her skin
with urgency
& she still greets
her days far too late and
lazy for comfort
we call her
The Midsummer's Lass
the one who'd be grand if
she'd get off her--

well, you get the picture
where the paint is still dripping
& she only has the energy
to dab a few spots

in a comparative sense
all is grand
when pinned beside last year's
endeavors:
an unhappy heart
a verbally broken home
& an unrequited pining that
seemed painfully
permanent

it was around then that
The Wild Blue Yonder-Eyed Boy
emerged from the garish
sun-stricken sky
to stake his claim in
Mother Earth's
weary embrace for
eternity

his breath continues
to thwart away drought
& death
his skin is her
lullaby
their hearts will always carry
a heaviness of sorts,
for such are their dreamy spirits,
forever in search of a better
land instead of the
mundane
& nerve-aching

but their love
oh, love

is
a season all of its own

learn to love & learn
to live, for this is the art
of how to forgive

cheap whiskey slides
& collides
milky veins
forfeit of precedence
never thought I was any
better anyhow

I'm just here for the
ride
& for the taking
he can bet on his bones
that I'd love to leave
him shaking

his tongue to my
cheek
they'd say bravery was
for the meek
I'd give it a week
before those fingers start
aching


one more taste


oh, chérie...

I will not let you go to
waste

I love his little bursts
of excitement
the sound of delight
resonating
in the back of his
throat

the languor of love
that lingers
on his tongue
like a slow-spun record
on a hot humid
day
when all there is to do
is just
dance without
clothing
& listen without
loathing

'cause
for hate we've not any
vacancy
in our third-story
palace of
peace