Boots laced up
Time to go
Out in the woods
We walk in snow

You look at me
Don't speak a word
In the silent thicket
Our voices heard

Keep trekking
We find our way
Our little adventures
Make my day

Forget the birds
Forget about doves
Forget about the things
That make you feel
any kind of love

Love poems are great in number
Rather than contributing, though,
I'll take a nice
long
slumber

I want to write about
more worldly things
Stuff that boggles the mind,
Perplexity it brings
Something that makes
you think I'm the best
poet of my time
Day and night,
I'll keep writing these lines
But
**** it,
I'm done this time

I am walking on
hard stones
Looking for
open roads
But there are no neon
signs lit tonight
Nothing to prepare me for
this inevitable flight
Up, up, up
I go
On the way,
in the air to roam
No longer seeing road…
Bring me down,
Pull me back
Head strong and looking
Avoiding the circular track
Nothing to better me
but myself and my own
and this life, for now
I'll call my own

When I think of you I think of spontaneous poems

Because when I think of you
I think of how god ****** artsy you are
and how quiet
and how gentle
and how intelligent
and articulate you are
and how you love coffee
and books
and how
you get my undivided attention
with those eyes

And I can't help but write poems
about that kinda ****

Are you sleeping now, love?
What time is it in France?
I've no idea,
but I know with you,
I long to dance
You make me want to dance, girl
We have danced before
That was the same night you told me
"whatever happens in the room stays in the room"
Next your clothes on the floor
But then
You went to get someone,
Someone else was at the door

Anyways, love
That was a long time ago
And I've known you forever
But I've never known your hold

Hold me dear,
Please,
Watch me cry
Your heads in my lap
And I'm looking in your eyes

It is you, darling, it has always been you
And I couldn't tell you when these feelings
Shown through
But they're here now, and you have
Always been gone
Come here love,
I don't play for everyone but I'll sing you this song

I don't know many chords and
I don't know how to sing
But for you, sweet one,
I'll let my little voice ring

Come back from France
Come back to me
Come back soon
So I becomes we

I really don't know
Where I should go

I believe in a few things
Never know what life will bring

I'm too tired to think
My eyes slowly blink

Time seems to stand still
Not even sure what is real

Looking for something I can't seem to find
Discovering myself, losing my mind

My footsteps disappear the further I walk
My voice drowns out the more I talk

Lost in myself, there's no one around
Just the Earth and I, tightly bound

I went to the bar
that Monday night
in hopes that it would be as good as Sunday night,
it had snowed
and that was my excuse for staying

(The truth is I didn't want to be alone)

Drunk Tim watched me as I ordered my drink
I had no idea
I thought he was some business man
Dressed in his suit
and tie
Drinking his cranberry & vodkas
with his coworkers he pretended to like
but he was
                       a l o n e

He came over and sat with us
made himself comfortable in the booth
this old perv...
he had a ring on his finger
and was obviously drunk
and he seemed to have this look in his eyes
like he was
running away from something
or someone;
maybe life or
sadness

Drunk Tim got behind me
like they do in the movies
to "help my form"
in hopes to sink that last pool ball
so I could be proclaimed
                                               w i n n e r
Guess what?
His perverted tactics
worked
and
I
won

And  I didn't really feel like a winner
But I laughed
and smiled anyways
and ordered another drink
as I sat down
alone
with Tim

I told him about books I was reading;
Slave narratives
and what they meant to me,
and he told me about a manuscript
he had written on racism
in America
And I thought he was full
of ****

And finally,
he told me
I had "depth"

And it was then I realized
that maybe drunk Tim
wasn't
such a dumb,
sad
drunk
after all

Or maybe,
he is all the more