Do not want
You in
Virtual reality

No breath on
My neck

Your flesh
Vibrates alive

Unrepresentable

Some mountains pretend
They are unmoving

Their subtle lie
Pretends to permanence.

We are apart
For some reason
I cannot fathom

But trust
The chi

Doctor split his chest free
cracked  it wide  open
like a blessed pit

Then  doc tickled Gabe’s
heart with a scalpel
made it clean

Again he can go skirt
chasing and set his
**** straight

So the process can
begin again with
the pain

You probably think this poem is about
Lisbon, Portugal, where women
dangle your imagination like
a necklace of sun-dried
currants. No,

Lisbon, Iowa, a town twenty-two
miles removed from the 21st
century, where I stopped
for coffee, flipped eggs
and a place to ****
on my way home

from  god what  a day;
a man ordered a plate
of Rice Krispie bars
and tea—shuffled

his wallet for ten minutes,
made me nervous
like he was on
Thorazine;

it was the last
time I visited
Lisbon.

His teeth feral teeth
and putrid breath

does not correlate
with the pale shoulders

and soft ways of
the woman with him;

somehow they make
the Multiflora

rose, rise
and blossom.

A touch of morning sun painting the clouds , searching for dolphins , marveling aloud
Turquoise views sprinkled with gold , busy sandpipers , wind driven gulls
The perfume of the ocean , a masterwork in vivid motion* ....

I smile when I hear the words "I give up."

Suffering misunderstood and underrated;
A primary reactant for change.

But people fear it, abandoning friends,
Nestled comfortably within delusions.

To bolster and promote charity without sacrifice.

To applaud goals without acknowledging the journey.

To treat symptoms without seeking the disease.

I smile when I hear the words "I give up."

You're awake, my friend.

Good morning.

Angels reveal their presence disguised as butterflies -
on the beach , a sand dollar at our feet                                                             ­     Heavens nighttime bouquet of radiant stars , the first ray of morning sun touching our young hearts  
The living canvass of ocean brushed anew
each moment
The curious shorebirds that hover above us* ..