Familiarity
smells like Old Spice
and a fresh brew
Let me grind my way
       over to you
  Comfort is
the sound of
  your laugh, rolling
from behind your lips
and gently stroking
       fingertips
   Longing is
the hunger I coax
by imagining our
   movements when
pressed together
       close

collaboration with calpurnia mockingbird*

Bite me, muse
You night time lover
fairweather fickle demon of writes
you shake your stuff in my direction
then run off laughing in the night.

Up yours, muse,
you wanton harlot
spewing fragments, bits of rhymes
take your teasing from my doorstep
sorry *****, don't have the time.

*******, muse
you stinking skiprat
get to steppin' set me free
you mock my gaze with great affection
help me out or leave me be!

******* muse, my new expression
take your words and shove them there
your sun don't shine in my direction
this poems **** but I don't care.

July is summer—
sprinklers and bathing suits,
the month of my birth.

The seventh is bold
and no longer afraid to
heat up a little.

My lazy eyes lap at your thighs,
their jiggles my kryptonite.
Why lust for skin and bone?
bodacious beauty passes by, unnoticed by the blind.
I see it all,
curves and dimples
marshmallow soft and twice as sweet
call my name and boost my blood!

My stare is caught in your embarrassed eye
As you presume negativity not positive effect
pulling at your dress, hiding all you own.
You are beauty supersized,
as my lazy eyes lap at your thighs.

The time is nearing
and I keep hearing your name
flashing bold and white in my head
Oh, I never want to get out of bed
unless your smoke's in my fire

The time is coming soon
I'm still stuck in my room
scribbling down words I can't say to you
Oh, I'm not right in the head
I cant leave my bed because
your smoke's in my fire

Clock is tick, tick, ticking
I'm terrible at picking up
on inconspicuous cues
The wick is slowly burning and I'm
quickly learning your smoke's in my fire

  The time is now
I'm flickering toward you but the
draft from your presence puts me out
I'm smoldering, embers circling
the smoke coming from my fire
You're the smoke of my fire

It's shedding season--
a time for growth and flaking
away dry, dead cells.

Early afternoon rain
crusted eyes cracking open
at the trickling sound of
pattering puddles

Moisture conforms you
hugs dry skin tight
frizzing stray hairs
leaving them a flight

There is peace
tranquility in this moment
Waking the mind
resolving the heart