Fly down
splash through my rainbow
drip colours in my eyes
I am no longer blind.
Wooden flowers bloom from concrete grounds
vines peel spiders from bananas trees.
Through the windows of a
green eyed child
mother earth embraces her
-that gaian child.
Pixies fly on webbed wings
while
tinkering bells sound like mewling babes.
From below he watches a sky
turn dark.
He can not help but smile.

Rest to sleep my lovely one
smile that smile that reaches your eyes.

Southern summer nights
too hot
swimming in a sea of humid
drowning in a pool of sweat
and sweet tea.
Sweet tea like syrup
dark hazel
filled with ice
cubed and perfect
from an imperfect freezer tray.
Frizzy hair
glistening skin
from a dull sun
tempered by an Atlantic breeze.
The moon shines full
lighting the scent of the summer night.
Honey suckle, hydrangeas, cotton textured
dandelions like parachutes against the
black night sky
is a southern summer night.

I knelt
elbows propped
eye lids shut.
I inhale the smell;
the strong scent of
incense--frankincense
with myrrh.
I hear the figure in black talk
his voice rings strong through out the
building
ringing off the crumbling walls
reflecting like the light
through the stain glass windows.

We were timid
i laid my eyes on you at first
then looked away.
my heart beat
fast
so fast
sofastsofastsofast.
At first I wanted to talk,
we talked
we talked and laughed and smiled
then
nothing.
Nothing then hugged then kissed
we
kissed....
and it was
nothing but
bliss.

What is it that you're thinking
tell me what you
ponder
while you watch me
doubled over.
As you watch me doubled over
heaving
bile
and spit
and breakfasts meal.
Does it disgust you when I choke
and cough
eject
half digested
----not even fully digested----
nutrition from my
acid scarred throat?
Or do you just stand there
feeling nothing.

She remembers
vividly
walking in.
The smells
the feel of the coarse hard wood
against her feet
the yellowed and peeling flakiness
of floral wallpaper.

She recalls the meat simmering on the stove.
The stove which was old
bulbous and black-cast iron perhaps.
It filled the small one room lighthouse
collecting between the crevices wedging and
flattening itself between plaster and cement.

Each step made a sound
reminding the surroundings of her presence.
The solitary light bulb flickered as she pulled its string.
Brushing her cheek she felt his toes
swinging 180 degrees then back again
-maybe less of a dramatic angle.

My feet are numb

they are cold.

My thin fingers burn

from harsh wind

from no cover.

My teeth clatter

clack
clack
clacking

quick and repetitive

against each other

with a VIOLENCE

that makes them shatter

-weakened-

by years of sleepless nights spend

grindingthemtogether.

Standing aloof

apart    from      everyone    and    everything    

alon­e.