to stay tucked up and warm in bed
to dream on and wonder
where I am being led
or to rise up into another day,

hmm,
I'll throw the dice,
ugh a three, a two,
don't like those
I'll throw the dice twice,

I need a double six
threw a double one,
where the hell are my socks
wonder where they've gone?

Sleep is just a washing machine
it turns your world around
and rinses you clean,

I am awake
awoke
had my coffee
rolled a smoke
spoke to my Lady
She said,
not likely,
still only Monday
and I'm moving along.

i can't stop staring
your sweet innocent face
your pitch-black eyes
and your genuine smile

your smile is contagious
i've never felt this happiness
for six long years
of loneliness

for a few minute
we immediately vibe
as if we've met before
*** we are truly the same


it was indeed a good night

i used to write about
living in lovers' chests,

hiding myself away
in the comfort of softer ribs,

not having to move a bit,
from bigger hands keeping me safe.


i dont want that with you.


make room for me
right beside your body,

i'll keep you in our arms
for as long as it takes to feel warmth,

i won't hide within,
i'll love you loud enough to fly

that's what i feel with you.

Tethered to the Bo tree,
first I see you, then I don't. Silence was
my strength between you and me

Water in water gives you
a mirror of greying heart in heart. that
never stops the beat even after death.

Can you sing in pain?
The blood blocks the voice of god
birthing in the twilight of my faults.

if i believe
in death be sure
of this
it is

because you have loved me,
moon and sunset
stars and flowers
gold crescendo and silver muting

of seatides
i trusted not,
                    one night
when in my fingers

drooped your shining body
when my heart
sang between your perfect
*******

darkness and beauty of stars
was on my mouth petals danced
against my eyes
and down

the singing reaches of
my soul
spoke
the green-

greeting pale-
departing irrevocable
sea
i knew thee death.

                              and when
i have offered up each fragrant
night,when all my days
shall have before a certain

face become
white
perfume
only,
          from the ashes
then
thou wilt rise and thou
wilt come to her and brush

the mischief from her eyes and fold
her
mouth the new
flower with

thy unimaginable
wings,where dwells the breath
of all persisting stars

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands