i have a jar filled with eye lashes and 11:11’s i’ve saved up for you

i’ve got a drawer full up with dandelion seeds

i keep shooting stars stored in my lungs for you

and all my pockets are weighed down with fountain pennies

i’m saving all my wishes for you

my brain is the empty attic of a mid 20th century two story owned by a sub par poet

its walls are covered with layers of paint, wall paper, and dust

the floor overflowing with crumpled ***** of paper

its door reduced to nothing but scratches and patches

the floor boards curl up from years of climate changes and leaky roofs

and its rafters squeak and whistle every time the wind blows.

my brain is the empty attic of a mid 20th century two story owned by a sub par poet.

sad, bored, and lonely.

Patiently in the night,
I waited
For your voice to fill the air
With a strange, secret rhythm.

I waited;
I always knew it would happen,
But I never expected it to.

youth lived harder passing into unyouth
your hips something nice are full and easy

(they are curving

they have docile sleeping entering


they are wide have thickness firmly steep

                                                                          )

like them better apart and better doused
in my kiss agile slanting heaps of love
and hips,baby,they are some kind of
tiny perfect entering curve of sleep
me and please come into (you like
to pull me out and)

You are
as vast as the ocean

Climb up
onto my hometown shores

and let me kiss you once more.