the best of times;
they rhyme
in a sense,
make hearts calm
in a way,
the poets tend to make
sense
of that,
write of it
though it
is all there
anyway.

a tear or two left
let me take my handkerchief sodden
*** it up and wring it
it will bring hope
hopefully for all
those who have none
or those without food
might it feed
or those
who have given up
a bit of peace a touch of human hand
the very need they seek
or a seed
for the future of mankind
to see  
how
it could be

A shallow friendship is like a can of soda.
You drink it, thinking it will quench your loneliness.
But it actually makes you more lonely in the end.

Only your presence is real:

I can see your shoulder, left,
Exposed.
You eat a peach folded on the couch,
The summer it began
As a diaphanous drop
Of wine spilled under
Your lips,
Through you the transparency
Of the world,
Under motionless present
Your timeless gaze,

A quiver of light,
Your naked shoulder.

The foam of your body
As the wave hits my shores,
Living waters,
I swear the world is your substance,
You hear my footsteps
Throbbing in the shadows,
      The silken flattery
Of your smile,
The hour glass of your figure,
Suspended between us
I kiss you,
The rain does not wet you
Because you are a flame,
     Your lips taste of wine;

Our bodies stretch the dawn
Uprooting the world.

Month of January,
My words wander through
Your snow to gather
Crystalline Icycles and fragrance
From burning fires.
Come Winter, my love,
The grey days of chill
Warm the heart,
A blessed scape for holding
My lover drifting in white days,
The flakes fall as you approach
And form a memory,
Frozen in my eyes as though
The season were brought upon
Just for this moment.

Look, in my eyes,
Yours,
An angel walks in the snow
So that the cold sun could
Shinedown upon you,
Cotton and your rose petal
Cheeks, smile at me as
You shiver and kiss the crimson
Of your lips,
The season of Winter,
A reason to hold you....