So when the trunks
circle you
too tight,
don't be afraid
when they intertwine
and circle their vibrancy
around you.
Let them contain you.
Let them contain you
as a mother & father
containing all the atoms
of a second hand.
So when their vibrancy
turns to brown,
and you dance the
skies depths,
you will look back
on the intertwining veins,
and you will give them
all the atoms in a minute
hand.

BrIgHt TeNdRiLs Of A dEvIlS hAnD
rEaChInG tHrOuGh My FlOoR
lAtChInG oNtO tHe RoOf.
TuRn AwAy, RuN aWaY,
wAkE uP.

The first day
a man in the airport
searches my belongings.
He finds my thanks.
Written on paper
in colors of blue, green,and black.
A jagged smile form on his lips.
"Are these compliments?" He says. "Who wrote them?"
My answer , underlines with a chuckle is:
"That's just it. I have no idea."

"Well how peculiar. How do you treasure something that is the job of Sherlock Holmes?"
(solving mysteries, that is)
I say nothing,
just smile.
"And these names; you have taken the term read between the lines so literally here. These names are words I know, but I don't understand."
My response--as always--is:
"We use them to preserve
our magic.
our secrets.
our ties.
98% of what I hold dear is on that piece of paper. I swear."

Memories are just those suspended moments in time when everything is held together by the strongest strands of the spider’s web and the chest caving hug of a parent.
Memories are the tiniest seconds when you stand at the cusp of everything and watch every color breath across your field of vision and against your moral code you tie down those thoughts because losing that dance is worse than death.
They are the air we breathe and the space between my ears as lips creep up your face. Memories are the rooms of gold poured down a dragon’s throat and glaze hearts onto its eyes.
It’s the stuffed animal we all know is grotesque, but we can’t in our right mind throw away. Memories are the fundamental structure of everything good.
The warmth that rushes through our body and fire we take delight in. The unsuspected smiles that cause weird glances and good feelings.
Memories are an escape the equivalent to a book to which it is a world.
Memories are the birds resting on the shoulders of snow white that are so happy just to be there because they know the beautiful colors of a voice escaping her mouth are their treasure. Memories are the Hemoglobin of love that tell our minds: “remember this. It matters”

You really have to watch those liberal males,
they'll spend hours and hours with you having
deep intellectual conversations.

They'll discuss deep ideas, contemplate esoteric
theory and spiritual ideas. They'll make love
for hours and write deep and meaningful poetry
about you. Sure, they will probably wear their hair
long and most likely won't own a television.

But, they'll understand art and architecture and
literature. It's true that they probably won't give two
shakes about who won what football game, but they'll
dance with you late at night under the stars and they're
always looking for new ways to please you and usually
understand your deepest thoughts, often before you
understand them yourself.

They'll be your best friend and always treat you as
an equal, in fact, it will never even enter their mind
that you're not. They're almost always physically fit, too,
because they're usually the outdoorsy type and love to hike.
They never make fun of others, or discuss small ideas.
They enjoy discussing ways to improve the world and
the lives of others.

Sure, they won't slap you on your *** and tell you to get in
the kitchen and cook them some dinner and bring them a beer
while you're at it like those macho men on the right. Instead
they'll probably tell you to relax while they whip you up a
gourmet meal and serve it to you on the best dishes.

Yeah, you really gotta watch out for those liberal males.

i.
fall is almost here, the autumn leaves are alive with
color and the trees are standing tall and majestic

and you are still nowhere to be seen

ii.

i wonder a lot, if things would have gone differently, if i would still be
by your side and if you would let me
those are the worst days, the ones where you are only an echo in the
wind but it is enough to spark a tornado and the nights come quietly
and restlessly and i toss and i turn and i wonder a lot, if i would ever
choose for things to happen differently

iii.

it's funny how things turn out because just two years ago we
were sharing the same jokes in math class and if i close my eyes and
hold my breath, i can still see you typing furiously on your calculator
and throwing notes on my desk effortlessly without anyone ever
noticing, we were so beautiful in those days; so happy and young and
naive and beautiful

iv.

i don't know where you are anymore, i talk to you sometimes but
very rarely and that thought doesn't bother me as much as it used to
i know that i don't need you in my life anymore, although i have a feeling
that even if i did it wouldn't be the same because autumn leaves always
lose color and we live our love in shades of cool, and it is
no longer beautiful

(h.l.)

And she wrote
About the way the sky looked
At the end of the day
About the way the stars danced
When she looked at them through her telescope
About the poem she read
That made her cry
About the ocean
As it found its way to the shore
About the storm she witnessed
As it angrily shot out lightning
All beautiful things
All beautiful things

But most importantly,
She wrote about you.
About your kind eyes
And your soft smile
And the way you could talk to her
And the way you laughed
The way you would look at her
Like no one else did
You understood
All beautiful things
All beautiful things