If life fit in a line, it would be a horrible poem.
Not that it’s too messy, for some of the best poetry speak of tragedy as romance or vice versa, and I have never heard of a greater mess.
Nor that it is too scattered, for some of the best narratives lie in the tales of drug-addled minds.
The poet must fictionalize life and love to make it readable, and even then I am often uninterested in reading it.

.

Drifting on a lonely stream
where lily pads and ripples direct my thoughts
to the promises of a new day

               I dream I am floating in your arms

as currents gently tug
playing solitaire in wishing hands
among glistening diamonds surfaces

               Searching for each desire’s shoreline

while my eyes wander to a place
long of sunrise sparkles
on soft summer murmurs

               Finding your fragrance on a cool wind’s whisper

my heart is drenched,
cleansed in an endless channel
of what your beauty brings to me

               A shady spot among watercolor shadows

writing poetry,
penning my affections in ink traced lines,
renderings of how wonderful my life is

               Since you have washed over me

leaving me breathless,
submerged far beneath drizzled kisses,
saturated in your love

Today is going pretty well
But I won't cheer yet
Swell and smooth so far
But I won't hold my breath
Premature celebrations
Tend to be premature

I know a lot of words I don't use
People think I'm a bore
It's hard to understand why I have less
It's selfish to think that I deserve more
I'd be the apple of your eye I bet
If I could go without a shred of regret
Just know that baby I'm rotten to the core

Life fades in and life fades out
The same could be said for love and baby
Loving's what I'm all about
I have good days in, I have bad nights out
I'm in love with you of that I never doubt
If I could find my feet and disperse this
Awful cloud, then you could find my heart
But it's lost, of that I'm not proud

If I could try success I'd bet it tastes
Sugar sweet, I'd have my own pie
And everyone could have a piece
I suppose I never looked at it this way
My sugar queen, you can be my success
I can be your feet, you can be the ground
That holds me steady, sharing all
Our blessings the world wouldn't be ready
And they would say that we are few
And that they are the better many
But it's not a competition and
As kids we learnt not to be petty

Today was going pretty well
But I cheered to soon
I was put straight through hell
Now what am I going to do
I'll close my eyes think of better times
Of chasing success with you

One small moment
can be so infinite,
in vibrations grand
as I watch the universe
                burst forth and expand
I sit upon the desert's ground
feeling the abundance
                     of Life, abound
How it envelopes me
          and takes me in
as I become one
with the cosmos,
           stars exploding within
It swallows me whole
into vastness so sacred
for we are all enfolded
across ancient
        frames of time
our condition vulnerable,  
                 souls naked
looking out into this
diamond-flecked magnitude
in crystalline,
                   sublime
For inside that far away,
milky density
of celestial spheres
we are part of the now
part of the here
        and, as the firmament      
continues to move
my starry-eyed soul
        begins to groove
******* state
from meteor's flash
tranjectory arcs
in a second's bright dash
A miracle of
cosmic magic unfolds
before our very eyes---
a gift to behold,
            a spiritual prize      
and as we hold our breath
from meteorite to star
I think about this
concept of far
ponder upon the waves of space
                                     and time:
an axis of fine-woven threads
                                that binds
and know that under
these spark-induced skies
our journeys fuse
             our hearts,
                   our eyes
Our spirits the
reflection of comets' haze
our dance of
shooting stars,
             ablaze

From the dusts of day
a day singles itself out
as forever remembrance.

On his calling
they met at the harbor town.

She had traveled all of twenty miles
from her seaward village
to pose with the city boy at a roadside studio
humidly dark from the blinding sun outside.

Time was captured eternally for the moment
the photographer drew them closer
freezing two awed eyes in frame.

They knew couldn't last
that unearthly day on the harbor town
made to stand closest
sparking a craving in their skin
and then passing into black and white postcard
of two sweating face
in absurdly ridiculous happiness.

The boy's copy was lost in the wind
but he loves to believe
the other is safe with her.

.
I have come to the temple
Of your body.  I kneel and prey
Like a sinner.  The holy water
Beads low on your forbidden
Tabernacle, sears my touch
In cleansing flame, what I do
And what will be done is all
For unrepentant confessions
And penances.  Let me truly
Learn the sacraments of flesh
Before I bathe in your wicked
Innocence and commit my sin
At being mortal in your nimbus
Chambers, let the mercies rain
After the fall of my fellowing
Creature, for this night is blood
Sabbath, and sacrilege under
A Pagan moon and let the dawn
In the rising sun of mute morning
Be my absolution, our benediction,
Let the moving waters enfold us,
Pure as lambs, as washed babes,
Baptismal.