.Like echoes of April through Aphrodite's smilesoftly draped over sleepy mountains,waking with dew laden apple blossomsin a bright white field.The sun opened one eye and quicklyflooded the valley with light.The caves of ice began to melt soon to becomea clear rushing stream.The mist, slowly liftingand thesilence has just passed away . . . . . . . . . .For a moment in time the sun and the moonhesitated against the pale blue morning sky.Within the reach of a naked eye, Jupiter loomed.Fish filled the blossoming stream and all swamin the same direction.Time could have been standing still andthere would not have been anybody to complain.The scent of fresh apple blossoms whispered upon the air.I could hear panda playing bamboo flutes.Then I could hear people hustling and bustling.The sound of stainless steel objects seemed toslam into the concrete with a scattering,shocking force.Then I heardmy doctor speak firmly,"Clear."~

I prepared a bed of silver lining once,
for you my friend,
Laid my head beside you, there,
To wait out the worst of the storm.
You and I shared
Thick dew on our lips as it twisted into raindrops.

We danced one last time upon the clouds and then
We fell hand in hand upon the ground
And parted ways.
I dont even know your name
My friend,
And thats the beauty of it.

Can I call you my friend?
We danced together, once,
You and I
We were barefoot,
Ankle deep in thunderclouds
You and I waltzed between mountaintops
As if the snow and sun were silent music
1,2,3,1,2,3

We were raindrops, once
You and I
Fell to earth from the very clouds that we called home
From the silent sun who gave us light and tanned our skin
You and I fell upon the ground together,
No matter, my friend,
It was lonely in the sky

Each knot tied
wrinkles and ages the face
of a rope worn smooth
from passing through the hands of you and I.

Each slipknot I pull through
weakens the twists in your story,
because these knots are little more than child’s play,
and children have no place among this rigging.

What is frayed and tangled,
this salty air will only weaken in due time.
And when the strings unravel,
face the shame for knots you can’t untie.

Though the salt air blew upon my rope as well,
no harm can come from knots that I’ve untied.
Will you have the strength to face yourself,
when all that you have left is knotted ropes?

I stare into the embers
Nothing keeping them alive but one another
[they’ve reached it, their point of no return]
These dancing shapes are just like us
[though they know better than to show it]
They speak! In frantic burrs and whispers
And I (questioning their innocence)
Listen to their talk and chatter
Let the smoke mislead maturity
[its talent after all]
Align my life with that of fire
[keep writing, theres no second chance tonight]
And the fire grows, the flames get higher
Love: it spreads like wildfire
[on a sandy beach]

So much time spent pondering Prufrock’s
famous words and condition,
Meals overlooked without want or need
For sustenance more than finding shreds of that same poetic recluse
Within yourself.
Tracing constellations with squinted eyes and pointed finger,
And following footsteps in photographs

Because
This is no place for you and I anymore,
Because
We stand out in the cold alone,
Because
We watch from outside,
From inside where our minds wander of their own accord.

Well, we are still innocent
Playing tic tac toe because
Two Xs and an O and there’s no way you can win.
And duck,
Duck,
Duck,
Goose and everything is gone
If that’s the best you can do, because

Prufrock did not dare disturb the universe
And I dare not disturb myself
With minutes rolled, hours rolled,
Into stories told with face unchanging, because

I have far too much passion wrapped within my fists
To mark futile Xs and futile Os
In the precious blue ink that scribbles out my life story
Too fast, not fast enough, wet ink smudged across the page,
Across my face because
Ideas are blurred by expectations,
Nightmares they say
Are just creations, but
If we are, then why am I still breathing?
Someone please wake up and un-invent me…

He looks like a kabuki dragon
acid trip, only on his left half.
After ordering some coffee,
this man, of intimidating height
continues his conversation with the blonde.

The green ink covers his face,
and slowly meanders to the left of his body.
Hairless, the glasses and earring
make his exterior look like a pearl.
As he talks with his hands,
the green moves like leaves in a jungle
that swallowed the gem.

In a single swipe,
his paws could crush mountains.
Both hands envelope the coffee cup
as if it were a tiny kitten he is leaning in to kiss.
Despite his brutish appearance,
I can tell he is a gentle creature.

His deep voice is soothing,
as each sentence hums  
though it causes the coffee shop to shake.
I wonder if gods sound like that
or if all the smoke this dragon man exhales
has deepened his chords.

I’m nervous this living mythical figure
will catch me staring,
though I’m sure it wouldn’t be the second time
he’s had to ignore it.
I’m envious, knowing his journeys
and personality are etched into his skin
for the world to see.
But only he knows the translations.

So bold,
so confidant to wear not just love
but pain and life-lessons on his skin.
Perhaps I’m drawn or inked to him
because I could never be that open,
and honest without saying a single word to anyone.