Your face was so familiar to me,
Having seen it when I closed my eyes.
But now my sight is fading
And with it your affection
Leaves my lips.

In my throat you have taken root-
The radical violates my lips
Gouging my smile until teeth are broken
Its humid tendrils drop black soil in the cavity of my lungs
The bark of the ***** startled the rabbit
All this reflected in the eye of a raven

Firstborn:
How have I known thee?
Surely it is not our first meeting you and I spring
Come and gone are the lifetimes
Past eternities we have known:
In which we ran naked through the orchards
Sleeping beneath a sky of stars innumerable
A sky still ****** of smoke

I walked in the cool evening
Two dogs at my heels
When we met
I was born and the words were dammed up
The flute of Pan was played as in moonlight we lay
Unafraid Spring and I

Who hath sculpted mountains?
Wind and water are the paint and brush
Stone and flame-Ice and sea
Lightning dancing cloud to cloud
Surely Thor's begun to weld
Upon the anvil of the sky

What is poetry to a flower
A single petal gives justice to a thousand lifetimes
Oh to be
In the vein of a leaf
Or the one running blue o'r your thin wrist

Be still and listen
For a night
For a day
God sings a song of Spring
Love not thyself

I miss the holy ghost of her smile.
The silhouette of her head in the night
on my pillow. Her beauty alight.
  
She was rain on my fever. Rain
through my window. An innuendo
of heavenly morning light. Heart heavy
as the moon on its way to Montana
  wearing my blue bandana.

Sometimes I forget
That I can say stupid things
Yolo Swag Yolo

I'm not a child
woman I'm
this wanting thing between
two arms
shaped like a body
I've been alive with the breeze for
centuries, darling

my love wasn't being made to make you feel foolish
you can't learn from that
wash your hands now, it's midnight
I'm
out the window
I wonder
what you wanted
and hold the whiskey in my mouth
singing be mine
for the company
cause I don't want to be ashamed to love you

& I'm tired.
Tired of sleeping after sweet dreams /
I'm sitting up now because you know I can't sleep  
who wants to sleep after a beg like that
I'm not built to be listless
I'm built for better, I'm strong
& you're
the 4pm sun in October
you're the reason I whistle in a hundred colors
It's a beautiful torture to miss a hand so much
to wear rings for the memory of fingers and to crave a cheek, not only for it's mouth but because feeling you allows me to breathe easy

Princess sleepyhead;
secretly death, from below.
His hand is fast like

how planets may spin.
You sit on a projectile,
unable to see

anger and fury.
A tiger yawning before
it may **** it's prey.

Unpredictable
/impossible to predict.
Quicker than a thought.

i want the feeling
the press and the weight and the grip and the fingernails;
the hair and the burn, the neck and the throat;
the gaze and the tears, the lips, the mouth, the spit
the tongue and the teeth (the fangs
and the bite);
the kiss and the lick, the grinding, the pushing and the
circles of the hips,
the fat of the thighs and the brush of the ankles;
i want the liquid and the hard, the sticky and the sore,
the pain and the sting and the ecstasy of the pleasure;
i want the eye rolls and the sighs and
the gasps and the moans and the screams and the whispers;
i want the banging of the bones and the rubbing of the skin,
the crashing of the waves, the rumble of the storm and the
hissing of the breeze.
i want to meld the two of us together until we become a thousand,
and to never cease sipping on this wine of heedless madness
that we blindly drown in.