made me
So horney and gifted
I lifted         a tune
Which lit the moon
now your waters obey me

Bath me with light
my imperfect iridescence
to slither through fertile crescent
Such twisted insight
yet adorned in the shadow of night

This hunger for mor ning
star
my clandestine appetite.

I wander not lost
but sea rching,
est u aries mi
Jane tap sap
Sens u al it y
because I lick you
and your
***** pha lang ease

i hunt for a sign
of you in the vernal sky—
all summer and breeze.

Summer strips
Fading slowly into Fall's fantastic wardrobe
Of chill kissed edges
Burgundy so rich you can drink of it deeply
Flaming orange who's heat you can still feel
Corn stalks as high as my daddy's shoulder
Who's height I crooked neck at to gain eye contact as a child
They sway gentle in late August breezes
I dance to the melody of their ripe harvest call
Apples hang heavy on juice laden branches
September slides down my chin like July watermelon
Both leave a 6-year-old's grin
And the knowing that soon all will be sleeping
Naked at midnight in January
Frost forming on lit windows
I wish I too could hibernate

you climb a tree, right to the top
the tree took years to reach those nauseating heights
energy, commitment, obstinateness to make it
and you, the one with the selfish gene, climb up it
cutting out all the hard work
and I can't blame you, for I have done it too

tu montes à un arbre, jusqu'à la cime
l'arbre a passé des années à arriver à cette hauteur écoeurante
l'énergie, l'engagement, l'obstination pour réussir
et toi, celui avec le gène égoïste, tu montes
en passant tout le travail dur
et je ne te reproche pas de le faire, car je l'ai fait aussi

The railway is a silver line
piercing through the gloom
of this lonely place.
The night train’s slowly sliding by
shining in the moon
lighting up my face
and it makes such a lonesome sound.

The full moon is a cruel friend
beaming cold and bright on the railroad track.
The night train echoes back again
ghostly in the night,
never coming back;
and it makes such a lonesome sound.

The north wind blows into my soul
filling up the void that the night train made.
The night train is a memory
that I can’t avoid as I make my way
and it makes such a lonesome sound,
such a lonesome sound,
such a lonesome sound.

Don't send me home crying
Tears in my eyes, wet face
Feeling lost on the long drive back
I would rather leave angry
With half moons dug into my palms
A plan forms to pull it all back together
I can handle rage