I don't like deleting certain emails
for the simplest of comforts
seeing the sender's name provides,
they are...

a hot tea on a "still sick"sick day,
an unexpected "how are you" inquiry,
or a late summer blossom,
a lavender Rose of Sharon,
shockingly discovered through a
country kitchen window on an early fall day,
or a poem born effortlessly,
it's existence unbeknownst to its creator,
just minutes earlier, unaware of its arrival,
just like this one...

or not deleting a newly gifted photo,
uncovered while closing one's eyes
past the midnight hour when
the old day hands off to the newly born incoming,
sending yourself off to bed
with a smiling chuckle;
of a young child's first day of school photo,
her plaid skirt and black patents,
a cherry-topping smile radiating hints
of both a pleasured future, a happy home,
and a growing-up maturity earned
from a third summer marked upon this planet...

so I keep that  email and that photo
handy-filed so they are stored,
fresh faced in my inbox or screen,
a friend's name, now a symbol of caring,
a child's photo, emblem of a kind of love,
that parented this poem, so that happily both *****
the armor of the commonplace
of both the everyday,
and the unforgettable world weariness
of having been there years before when,
when the mind sudden recognizes the new day's
sad refrain, sadder name and its most
saddest anniversary and these
disparate comforts,
both say, rest easy friend,
and now off to sleep...

2:31 am
Sept. 11, 2014

Who do you admire, child?

I admire the trees.

The trees are a* what not a who, my dear.

That's only what you see...

I see the strength
Of the wood through the sorrow
Of the storm, how it rips them apart

I see them give
What the creatures would borrow,
While pain is all that's returned.

I see them cry
From the young man's knife,
Tears for the love it has learned

I see them fade
At the end of their life
As winter seeds ice in their heart

The trees soldier on, and the trees do endure, though life beats on for its way

They lose bits of themselves, and yet they march on

Ever in the light of day.

Beware: Do not fall in Love with an artist.

An artist is definitely the most dangerous to fall into a relationship with.
You won’t even know you’re the exact facsimile of their work.

They will tear your heart to bits,
more than likely to generate a new showpiece.

They will watch your irises go from fields in bloom to dull skies,
and your black pupils go from metallic to charcoal.

They will be able to stroke your hair softer than a paintbrush,
and watch your little detail emerge from something pallid.

They will be able to memorize the structure of your face,
then round your cheeks and chisel your dimples into rock.

They will sing lightly the melody you’ve made,
as they cling to your torso as if a life source.

Do you see the danger?
For the love of god, beware.

the sweet warm breath on my neck
the scratches on your back
my deep moans of pleasure
and the clenching of the sheets
oh how I love the way you make love to me

shut out the light
shut out the sunshine that reminds me
of how much i will have changed
when i leave this place

i have hardened my skin and my resolve
to ignore time until it favours me again
i can't stop the shifting days, and i don't want to
but i can't hurry them along either
and i need to

basic needs will be met, sure
but you are more than just basic

you are complicated and simple
and everything in between a smile and laugh
that i have memorized and forgotten and saved again
a million times

shut out the light
and take it from me, take whatever you need
take it all before i notice the change
that pervades the air here
as my skin darkens and my smile tightens
and my resolve buries itself deep in the places
where winter still keeps me pale
and you still keep me warm

i'd take a whole summer of this grey sky
just to know you were spending your time
under sunshine

Desperate times for desperate men
then relaxation time with a cup of tea,a
glass of wine or if it's handy a
snifter or two of the finest brandy but
I have drunk electric soup,scooped it up,
swallowed it down,plugged into the main
and become one of the totally insane.
In the shallow end you defend against the night,
paddle if you will with can,
just call me the rotgut man.

When it's all a state of mind it looks so easy to unwind,
it's not.
The rot sets in as the sun rides out and the twilight shouts my name.

At what point do you realise you're a number
How do I know that all these promises, you didn't whisper to them too
I say I've never felt this way, you say you love me
I can't stop holding myself up against them
And all I feel is scrutiny, inferiority and broken
I hate myself now for only seeing an act

On the journey from your mouth to my ears
All these words lose everything and end up empty
But I've never thought me good enough
And perhaps I never will

So the ones who come before me stand tall over me and promise to never let me go
Yet somehow in the dark, in the deep deep dark

I see you

You're alone and holding in your hands all the meaning from the words that were lost
You hold it up to me and look further into me than anyone has ever done before
And I break and the tears that leave me carry the doubt away into my pocket and form a weight
I kiss you and embrace everything you hold and make it my own
I fall into you and become aware of how much I love you

Until I reach into my pocket and they're there

Waiting to grasp my hand