Pull up a chair
and rest a spell.
In your glance
I can see a tell.
Your heart is not here
when he's in town.
Your home fire
is burning down.

Come sit,
let's talk awhile.
I won't ask you
for a smile.
Here, now,
just take my hand.
Let us watch the sun
sink into the sand.

It is getting cold,
but the night is young.
There's still a fire in me
that has not been sung.
We can watch the moon
creep o'er the hill.
I'll sing for you
and warm the chill.

Pull up a chair,
let us talk awhile.
The night is young,
I can make you smile.
Take my hand
and make me feel.
There is a hearth here
that's burning still

r ~ 6/25/14

Peering through a wasp's wing
at shadows on the wall
Hear the whispered whimper
echo down the hall
Glass thump of bone and feathers
against the bedroom window
Motes of darkness floating
to air a moldy winnow
Creak of standing knees
rise in opioid haze
To wander past the shadows
and sniff of death's bouquets.

r ~ 6/11/14

That curving space
between her *******,
a perfect place
for my chin to rest
as I dreamt a scene
along the Seine
of the perfect *******
of my sweet Pauline.

r ~ 6/20/14

How do I fall asleep without you next to me?
How do I know that when the nightmares come I wont be swallowed whole.
And when the terror,
The shakes
And the self important universe descend upon my head that I can find safety in the hollow of your neck and the crook of your elbow.

he watches Her because she is one of those people who demands attention
She is wild and bold and sarcastic
he sees, though he is blind to Her insensitivity

she stares at Another because He is one of those people who sits at the back beautifully
He is good and charming and kind to His mother
she sees, though she closes her eyes to His cowardliness

he longs after The Girl who is taken because She is one of those people dreamt of
She is polished and pure with a bright smile
he sees, though he is oblivious to Her vanity

The light that lit the longest day,
now faded,
"time to cut the hay!"
Time to reep those seeds long sewn.
The furrowed lines
where all has grown.
Thank the Sun,
though shy to shine.
Without it, there would be no time.
No hallowed ground,
or sacred soil.
No harvest for a God to spoil.
Seasons would be just a notion.
Tidal waves without an ocean.
Secrets told without a voice
without our Sun,
there'd be no choice.