Tracing our lifeline on your back
Through every crossroad and shoulder blade
Over every vertebrae under the gray sky
One step over the edge of the world
To where the sighs and whispers fall
Where the grass is fed by our salty tears
And gods hum and ignore their tiny worshipers
Climbing up the brown branches of your hair
To meet your head in the clouds
They will see the finger pointing down
And jump off like a leaf in autumn
Snatched in the air by your hand
They can find out who they were and will be
As they rest their heads on your palm
When they wake up their masks will be gone
And they will smile

now I'm a shipwreck in a sundress,
an aimless, shameless coquette –
a first kiss, a second guess,
a weak and wobbly pirouette.

I long to live a life
worthy of war stories and old western movies.

I hope to have a home
filled with forgotten treasures and faded maps.

I aim to attain an anthology
collect the earth and capture the stars.

I dare to dream of danger
mountains, snow-capped, and moss-covered falls.

I seek to survive a stagnation
poetic poison and perpetual "sub-par."

I please to pursue a perfection
inevitable failure, imperfection- an art.

Fare thee well by islets of time,
Beauteous blooms of fragrance; of thyme.
Gliding symphonies beckons thine eye,
Gentle minds float toward sky high.

O cues sung by the siren, allure!
Once, fusion of reason borne pillar.
Twice ponder, may our paths entwine,
Thrice to act, unlike the tranquil Seine.

Like angelic enigmas par Euler,
Soar upon the painted auric frontier.
Air fresh: an ebullient morning dew,
Wisdom: moisture for the thirsty few.

By spring fountain, if thou art inclined,
Bright sparrow among the bovine herd.
Lo, argent quarry of dust- liquid guile,
Behold, product beyond thunder- gale.

Scents of lavender assail thy sleep,
Euphoric dreams, we welcome with glee!
Sleepy horizons, a glorious dawn,
Morning filled with a trillion suns.

Some time, some day: travel the stars,
Mortal shackles unchain my awful maw.
Pupil of Aristotle, Darwin, and Vinci,
There lies truth; a transient hierarchy...

Everything will be alright for you
Because it should be
And for us

I promise. Hold me to it.

You are a beautiful person. Remember our discussion of the word?
On all accounts
Please don't forget that.

soft sound of shoes on new pavement
hot & clinging.
sentences strung together/hinging on subjects of a wide variety,
petroglyphs, ivory, & māori history.

touching lamposts with the wicked curiosity
of an only child.
cutting the hair of strangers in an alleyway off of downtown,
burning the strands in a bowl w/some potpourri
interpreting the smoke.

Thoughts and sounds
from years past
inspiring me
to dance
to write
to think
to believe.

This is love
and I love it.
Flowing freely
tickling my emotions
and memories.

People now seem too confused
with money
children
should do's
and would do's
and what other people think.

We are all children
we should live that way
as if each moment was brand new
a new experience
to be
cherished.

At times, I do believe...
I should have been born
forty or so years ago.

It should be easy

     just letting each other go . . .

so why is it not?



      27.iv.11