as is the sea marvelous
from god’s
hands which sent her forth
to sleep upon the world

and the earth withers
the moon crumbles
one by one
stars flutter into dust

but the sea
does not change
and she goes forth out of hands and
she returns into hands

and is with sleep….

love,
    the breaking

of your
        soul
        upon
my lips

A lovely little poem
Written under a willow tree
The leaves tickling your soft head
Your skin
Caressed by the soft touch of it's soft sisters
Flowing down the branches
The pen runs smoothly
Across a perfect piece of paper
Resting blissfully on your favorite pair
Of memory-lane jeans.
You feel nostalgic as your poem is about someone you love
All the lovely times you've shared with them
Coming back to you under such a lovely tree
With your lovely head alive with emotions
What a lovely little poem you've written.

Time is short when you
love it may go on longer
but time is short here

That's why you got to
live and enjoy life's beauty
The trees and blue sky

The flowers and the birds
The lightening and the storms
Tis then you see light

Yesterday's are gone
Tomorrow's are not here yet
Today's are so nice

elms in the front yard
have started to exhibit
autumn's amber hues

The morning's gone - it's night again,
But, what is a few more hours to see the light,
When, lying here among the tubes, the machines, the needles... I've spent most of my life.

Susan
with her china-white skin
relaxed
down to lace bra and *******—

“Have you ever heard this?” she asks

… sets the album, drops the needle
in the groove
We wait till bass fills in the room
sending time and silence empty-handed
down a hallway

Susan lights a joint
settles on the bed
ample legs begging apart
She ***** in deeply
impounding clouds  
Head thrown back
Thick glossy hair—
loses gravity
Eyes half-closed, shadow-heavy
clear and blue like piano
The walls are muted trumpet
stutter-hush of cymbal and the snare
Crackling over scratches

We are barely there

Susan exhales
a swirl of fog to a frail moon
Only her sultry voice still holds me tethered

“Have you ever heard anything— like this?”

Miles flows 
around me
Smoking
On the floor of Susan’s room
lying clothed and drunk
Soaked
with chords and wonder

I never hear him coming

Miles takes his time