She steps into the dark swamp
where the long wait ends.

The secret slippery package
drops to the weeds.

She leans her long neck and tongues it
between breaths slack with exhaustion

and after a while it rises and becomes a creature
like her, but much smaller.

So now there are two. And they walk together
like a dream under the trees.

In early June, at the edge of a field
thick with pink and yellow flowers

I meet them.
I can only stare.

She is the most beautiful woman
I have ever seen.

Her child leaps among the flowers,
the blue of the sky falls over me

like silk, the flowers burn, and I want
to live my life all over again, to begin again,

to be utterly
wild.

I just finished texting you on December 31st
Sunday night, or maybe you consider that a Monday morning
and a country song just came on the radio
I couldn't help but to think about how much I hate country music
I hate the stereotypical voice the singer always sings,
the predictable pattern of strung guitar strings
So, at 2:24 am, on a December 31st, Sunday night/Monday morning

I started to wonder if you liked country music
Or believed too that it's tacky
I wonder if "tacky" even exist in your vocabulary
Where did you get your vocabulary?
Did your mom raise you to believe words would be your greatest ally
Was she raised with more than one language
I wonder what your ancestor's native language sounds like
And if it was ripped out of their tongues
Like culture in our history books
what stories were told from those tongues that history books could never tell
I wonder, what kind of stories you've carved in lover's mouths
with just your, tongue.

I wondered if you've ever lost someone
I wonder if you've ever lost yourself
If you did, where did you find yourself?
Did you find yourself in your palms over bent knees
That kissed the ground that at one time
kissed your feet.

I wonder when we'll meet
I wonder if I'll meet your best friend. If shell ever get scared
You'll replace her with me
And if I'll have to tell her, she's irreplaceable.
I wonder what's your favorite places you've been to
The places that made you smile to your human anatomy's most potential
And I wonder how much you know about your own human anatomy
I wonder if you know that an average heart beats 100,000 times a day
Pumping almost 2,000 gallons of blood through its chambers
Over a 70 year lifespan, that adds up to about 2.5 billion heartbeat
And sitting here, just wondering about you- you made me skip a few.

It's now 3:07 a.m.
And I'm wonderin' if you've ever wondered what it would be like to be loved by a poet
To have your body be put words and your words be put against my body
To have lips match figurative language to the figure of your body
And write love poems on your cheek
And I wonder if you even consider me a poet.

What are the events in your life you consider poetic?
If your life was a poem, what kind of poem would your
8th grade English teacher categorize it as?
If you were a curious child and if now
You're ever curious about me
If my mind ever wanders while I wonder about you
And if I could ever weaver it back

At 3:21 a.m., December 31st, Sunday night, Monday morning
I'm wondering if you're wondering about me.
Or if you ever wonder if I've ever lost myself, but more recently, lost my mind writing poetry

I wonder if you wonder if I consider myself a poet.
I wonder, if at 3:27 am, if you're awake too,
Wondering if I like country music.

In Dwimordene, in Lorien

Seldom have walked the feet of Men,

Few mortal eyes have seen the light,

That lies there ever, long and bright.

Galadriel! Galadriel!

Clear is the water of your well,

White is the star in your white hand

Unmarrred, unstained is leaf and land,

In Dwimordene, in Lorien

More fair than thoughts of Mortal Men.

To Flammifer of Westernesse.

you wear your tin pan stripes
and dash casual away
with nothing better than half assed goodbye to say
a bottle of boxed wine and
a pack of cigarettes later,
the world's axis shoulder spinning like a softball player
no mittens on the floor and no songs at the door,
theres a two step left to greet the things we abhor, you
got a twisted sense of humor for a kid from nowhere
swinging off the rafters of your independence


kicking the **** from her shoes in shifts and
a last ditch effort to  give a ****

I'm high in my tower, breezes tearing through the eaves
watching the world turning,  looking so **** carefree
i got your word this will be better than it was
but your heart doesn't have the experience it thinks it does
i'll loose my tongue finally now that you've started coming around
but you don't seem that comfortable coming to my side of town
we let each other down and that will never change
i'm just glad you're back in speaking range

the shoes are by the door
now clean but still messing the pristine floor

If you see me
tell me to take your hand,
to stop the fall, to finally land,
before I reach the bottom of a black-bearded abyss.
Don't miss,
oh, and maybe one more kiss
before I see me
pulling everything away.

My eyes couldn't pound
through the seductive sound
the click
tick
stick
of the lock.
You saw me
your fingers tucked
deep in the pockets of your silence.

Six seconds
What takes that long?
You can't write yourself a letter
You can't write yourself a song
Evelyn Mc Hale...six seconds
Eighty Six Floors
Jumped from the observation deck
And now she is no more
Six Seconds
Twenty three years old
Now she's dead and buried
And it's time her tale was told
On May Day '47
She thought she'd make a rotten wife
Did she know that when she took hers
She'd make the next cover of LIFE?
It only took six seconds
To land upon the car
86 stories downward
It doesn't sound that far
Most Beautiful they called it
Like they were describing a red rose
But they were talking of a suicide
Where she lost her shoes and ripped her hose
The photo that was taken
One seen all around the world
Makes it look like she was sleeping
And still clutching at  her pearls
Six seconds to the cover
Six seconds...to the ground
when you choose to make a leap like this
Do you care who is around?
She looks calm, cool and collected
Everything was in it's place
One arm was out beside her
There was contentment on her face
The real reason she did it
Is gone forever, yes I reckon
Evelyn McHale made LIFE
And it only took six seconds.

I went looking for God
but I found you instead.
Bad luck or destiny,
you decide.

Buried in the muck,
the soot of the city,
sorrow for an appetite,
devil on your left shoulder,
angel on your right.

You, with your thorny rhythms
and tragic, midnight melodies.

My heart never tried
to commit suicide before.