so in ancient Rome
Caelius bumps into
his friend in the streets
and he says:
“Hey, Domitius
I thought you were dead”

Domitius laughs and he says:
“Well, you can see I’m alive”

“Yes,” says Caelius, *“but you must be dead
for I had the information
from someone more reliable than you”

i have like tress stood piercingly between slick sheets of darkness

                                       light

pressed with lips full of burning pollen(a sting)

whispered in ***** bold dreaming

unloose cruel love

and

burst

i have like tress stood piercingly between slick sheets of darkness

                                       light

pressed with lips full of burning pollen(a sting)

whispered in ***** bold dreaming

unloose cruel love

and

burst

Between the night and daylight,
     As twilight begins to shower,
Comes a lull in the day's preparations,
     Cherished as the Kittys' Hour.

I hear in the kitchen beside me,
     The patter of tiny feet,
Rumbles of varying motors
     With "meow's" gentle and sweet.

Leaping from counter with agile grace
     On my shoulder with a purr;
Sail grave Thomas and sweet Lady Jane,
     And Susan of golden fur.

A "meow," and then a long silence,
     I know by mischievous eyes,
They are scheming and musing together,
     To vanquish my weary sighs.

With sudden dash from the hallway,
     Tortie bounds into my arms!
Felines of all colours sit starring,
     Delighting me with their charms.

Frolicking with skillful ease,
     Tossing and batting their catnip-mouse;
If I run to escape, they surround me,
     They appear to overflow the house.

Suffocating me with their kisses,
     Furry paws patting my face;
And though they have torn the kitchen blinds,
     They dazzle me with their grace.

I hug you all close in loving arms,
     And will n'er let you depart,
Nor ****** you dears out to coyotes,
     For you each have won my heart.

And here shall you dwell forever,
     Cherished more each golden day;
Till this glad house fall into ruin,
     And I in dust shall decay.

                 **~Hilda~

I don’t understand how you could me mine.
(What does the proud oak want with the pine?)
I can’t imagine how my long, skeletal hands
are the ones yours long to hold.
I am tough and coarse, like a pine,
Ever-green, constant, covered in spines
and needles, unpleasant and sharp to the touch.
While you, my love, are an oak.
You are strong and beautiful. Your leaves change colors,
fiery or verdant, you are loud when all others
shrink from speech. You, love, are dynamic, intriguing,
a tree that inspires poetry.
Your roots hold you fast, they run deep and true,
while mine fan out, shallow. I fear with no roots
to hold me, the wind could take me away.
(The wind will tear me apart.)
You are the one tree that grows tall and straight
in a place where the wind, fed by anger and hate
forces others to bend, to grow crooked, they’re lost
and confused, with nothing to reach for.
My branches are short – I offer no comfort
(from lack of ability or knowledge, I’m not sure).
Your branches stretch wide, embracing with smooth bark,
But an oak cannot love a pine.

The smoke from all the bridges we burnt, 
Pollute and burn our lungs, 
We'll run on empty hearts,
And rotting legs, 
This isn't the worst it could have come to, 
Ashes gather in our hair, 
Heavy winds picked it up, 
It travels with us now, 
Our past, has become us, 
Destruction, our past is destruction
it has become us, 
And now we fall, down rabbit holes, 
Onto rotting corpses, 
Into the arms of forgotten evil, 
Blinded by the smoke of the comforting drugs, 
And we breathe blood. 
This is us. 
We are destruction.

And
before I forget
there's one more thing
Last night And dropped in
like out of the blue
Maybe from the night sky
or just like an unannounced visitor
And walked in, let itself in
And jumped onto my lap
And it said,
though first it looked at my face like some lover,
And said:
And?
And, I said, there are things to be done…
And? said And…
And I'll have to make a list first;
And then prioritise…
And?
And then start…
And?
And then finish…
And was quiet a while
And then And said: And?
And then there'll always be
more things to be done, I said
Always an And…
And?
And, I said, then I'll have make a list again
And prioritise
And then start And then finish…
And it never ends…And it continues…
And And gave me a smile, smug and so satisfied…

And so it goes…this And…though you think And is gone
And just then, when you least expect it,
And is back…And so it goes…this And…

The End…
Oh, no not really The End…it's The And…

Ascend and crown the sky, amazing lark
You cannot know what joy you bring
To this winter-weary heart

Bumble on, friendly bee
You do not know how vital is your art

And what relief to see the tiny leaf unfurl
On the grand old oak
Who shunned all vestments through the winter's chill
But now puts on his greenest summer cloak

Come swallows, fast and low
Perform your aeronautic feats (like spitfires)
Swimming through the air
Skimming o'er the growing wheat

Comfrey on the river bank
Milkmaids in the meadow damp
Cow's parsley with its lacy bobbin'  heads
Dandelion's golden threads

My heart feels part, as if re-born
Of this rejuvenating summer dawn