You are sunbeams cast long on a couch through
A window, whose mesh drags like fingers
On a fence through the sighs of the warm Spring
Air; Beautiful,
Comfortable, familiar,
Lovley.

The pink flesh is
Soft like the sound of
Silk through
Fresh green grass --
Lips on lips.
Marasmus has waited
For the sweet
Covetous flesh to pour
Into my mouth
Before leaving, wishing
She could take
Some of the taste with
Her.
There are many fruits
In the world,
But this one -- the one
The spills her
Liquid tongue over mine
-- is my experience
Alone. If not then, than for
Now and forever.

The steel folding chair, is nice and
Chill against the
Back of my calves. I see her,
Over there, doing
All that she loves. Twirling her pencils,
Pressing her keys,
Chiming her voice and gliding her feet,
Lost in the music and
Syllables she floats so gracefully in,
Not drowning but so
Lovely surrounded and submersed.
The pink butterflies
Land and take off of her like she's nothing
But flower petals arranged
Perfectly together. They whisper her words,
Ideas, heart strings, all
That they bring from and back to her.

On the lightest tip-
Toes, she sneaks over and tells me to come
Join her. She playfully
Begs and pleads and tugs with all her might.
Sometimes I'm there
With her, but sometimes, I just like to
Be in my chair. Because
What I first came here to do, was to sit and
Smile at all that she does.

I kissed the moon
In purple glow

Her fingers, white beams
Licked my face

Not even Garuda
Could shroud Twi in

I was a tide
She pulled to her chest

We encompass
Then we wane

As the church bells
Ring out

She sings her songs
To slip herself down below the horizon

Behind the Gothics and willows
That point to her window

Where I find her
Tomorrow

When the dust has settled and
The ashes scattered,
When the sound has all died out and
The leaves are left dry to crunch underfoot and
The doors to our homes are neither open nor
Closed but rotted to the ground where
They used to stand,
I'll still be sitting by my tent with my
Lone guitar, looking across the fire
Into your eyes focused on the
Mountains behind me, and
I don't think there's a single ******* thing
That could make me ever look back.

O Love,
Why do we hesitate in our fear?
What do we seek to preserve, for
What is worth more in life than the
Life itself?

While the spoils of the lives
Around us fade to nothing, the
Fruits of our union - our shared life -
Are self evident. It is the adventure
Itself that we reap.

Alas,
We search instead for a map
Of a road that has not been cleared,
When the compass heading is
As clear as the waters of Nyasa.

So come!
Let us move ever onward, and ever
Upward - for the road has yet to be tread,
But the destination is certain.

Let what is true speak into our hearts,
So that our hearts can guide us in
What is true on our voyage.

"Magic is closer to science than religion;
science aims to conform nature to man, religion
aims to conform man to nature."*

Though I am no longer as mystified, this makes
Me no less a mystic. For I too pray,
Not through tears or knees
But numbers and telescopes.

You of much feeling need all your evidence --
Archaeology and historical account --
When I of such mind and curiosity
Need nothing more than the slightest feeling;

That feeling I crave beyond all else.

A momentary glimpse
Of the cream that you bare --
The smoothly curved
Marble

Deliberately created
With breathing pores;
Hues of pink like dramatic
Shadows;

Moving with natural
Fluidity like the silent
Planets that drift in the depths of
Space;

That demands reverence
And study like none other --
Is enough to burst the
Heart.

Let out to the day,
after years in the dark;
After seconds apart.
Soft rays of sunshine
gentle and warm; Face
pressed against mine by
the cheeks. Entangling
wind blowing in and
around my body;
Arms wrapped around
squeezing tight. Tumbling
brown winter branches
curled and brown; Hair
smooth, flowing down
over shoulders. Fruit
dripping with sugary
sweetness; Lips pressed
to mine that taste
like the sun.
Beautiful; Beautiful.

She's the sun and stars.

Close and with me, she
Lights up the day.
Brilliant and blinding;
Ever loving, ever caring.
Warming my skin,
Her arms wrap all around.

Far away she's the same
Beast, but distant and
Far by night. I can't see
But her old light.
Still brilliant and beautiful,
But gone, and yearning;
Time and space, an envelope.
She's pulled away by
The black ocean, and we sleep
A separate sleep
Till the Eastern gate
Allow her back to me again.

She's the sun and stars, and
I will miss her till the
East and West are one.

When I sleep in my room alone in my bed,
I lay with my back to the wall,
because an inch out is the edge, and be it hardwood
floors or knotted cedar trees the dark
permeates the room.  
There's nothing there, but I can never bring myself to
put my back to the unknown blindness beyond
my bed.
But when you sleep next to me in our twin bed, your feet warm next
to mine and more than half the blanket bunched under-
neath your chest;
when your drooling wets the pillow we share and
your warm breath tickles my nose,
I face the wall. I face you.

It's 8 somewhere
And here is there
Where the sun goes down to sleep;
The night is blue
It's a darkened hue
That lights across the sky.
The road is cold
Or so I'm told
By my bare and nervous feet,
And the streetlights shine
Into eyes of mine
That see more than can describe.
The store windows
With neons glows
Like ****** across the street
For attention they beckon
They want my attention
But the night is what I desire.
And as my feet walk
Over grass and rock
The night sky shines bluer and wider
Cause it's a beautiful sight
Even when there's no light
It's a world that's worth it to live it.

The Arbor man comes in and
Takes off his shoes, home at last.
I know I will never truly
Be able to fill them.

She's mid-breath when she
Takes the glass and
Splashes the water down her face;
She buries her head in a grave,
In a ground made of
Flannel, speckled with puddles.
Her hands ***** at the electric
Fence, and her fingers
Spasm and grasp and clench tight.
The sides of her back are butterfly
Wings, that flutter
With every gasp and shutter.
Her hair is the dark sky above her,
That hugs her red eyes
With fingers that sparkle thin white.

I've got nothing to say, so I say
It all; I ramble
Until her shudders are giggles --
The eclipse passes and the sun
Is in the night sky, Licking
Up and reflecting the sky specks.

So I'll put the lit up flakes on her
Already red nose,
And let the clouds dry up.

Let go of the branch with
Me. We are both flush red
With each other and it is
Time for us to go ahead,
Down to the river that flows
And eddies in pools
That will take us away and
Spin us like spools.

It is October and we cling high
Above in a time that calls Fall,
And we resist because we feel we are
Each a universe, but
Forget that we are Galaxies
In diapers.

Of all the places we could be,
Getting married in six months or
Enganged in Disney Land,
Or maybe even moving North
To simply live together,
Of all the places we're here -
While you destruct and I
Balance a crumbling life with school,
Here we are back in like.

She's the sun of my life
Who melts away the lead walls,
Tickles out the smiles, and
Brightens up my overcast.

When the Seattle rain falls and
Pings on the mailbox --
The chill outside jostling the
Doorknob to find it locked --
Our rooms will be grey with overcast.

The TV will hum and thrum, and
Fuzz around our heads
While the ***** socks lay off
The foot of the bed
With us buried deep inside.

Her glistening eyes will sit inches
From mine, gingerbread
And coffee dripping in thick caramel
From which the gloom fled
Like tsunamis back out the windows,
      and

Like braille under my fingertips I'll feel
The goosebumps of her skin,
And we'll lay here like it's the place
We've always been, with Yossarian's
Tail thumping the floor.

When the bubble foam snow
Floated down from the sky,
I could feel her next to me
With her deep brown eyes
Ready to jump and laugh and
Smother my arm
And kiss my nose with her
Lips so red and warm.
But when I turned to look
Where she stood over there
All that greeted me was
A gust of cold empty air,
And this cheap Christmas
Pageantry lost all of it's taste,
Because without her with me
Time feels like a waste.

I will kiss your skin
Like brushstrokes on a painting,
Until they are more numerous
Than all the grains of sand
On that long beach you love so dearly.

They wont leave your body
Until you see the lack
Of flaws in you that I do, and

One day their memory on you
Might be all that's left
Of me

Reading the draft of vows you wrote three years ago
From a crumpled piece of paper I had all but forgotten
In my wallet almost felt like you were actually with me
Again.

After all my years of study, and
Learning the things I love,

All I know here is entropy and
The Third Law;

That first we will force each
Other away, then fizzle and
Expel what heat I cherished most.

It cradles between your cupped
Palms, a big red strawberry
That pours its thick syrupy juice
Over knots in tongues
After whispering tales of birds;
It strains between every pause
Before it gets to scream and
Stutter your syllables to whatever
Fleeting, uncaring wind drifts past
It's red pulsing lips that stretch
Its fingers out to ***** at the feeling
That recedes to memory when you
Have to go.

A clock, where time
Does not move;
A ruler, where space is
Nonexistent;
A candle in the middle
Of a burning star;
Letters, when language
Is forgotten;
A stolen life, without
Curiosity;
Tracks and ties, naked
Of trains;
Clouds, without the puppies
We see in them;
A writer, without a story
To write;
A destination, without
The journey;
People, without each
Other. . .

Maybe even me on a Sunday,
Without you beside me?

Sometimes,
All I wish to do,
Is put what's between us
Into prose.

But sometimes,
It's too ******* special
For words to come close to,
Or to share.

Lips press together,
A cold keep    
With an unspoken
Prisoner inside.
They dare not
Let out word
Of what the
Eyes beho. . .

I don't sleep with a railing by my bed.
I used to, yeah, but not anymore.
After years of one to keep me
From falling, I found I like the feeling.
Down --
In love --
Off -- any of them.
It's dangerous, and irresponsible, and
Sometimes I get kinda hurt.
But the thing is, I still
Don't want my railing. It may hurt
To hit the floor.
But hey, at least I can get out
Of bed now --
Right?

It's raining outside. Of course
It's raining outside, it always
Rains here.

The drops rasp on the skylight;
They streak down the windows,
Clinging onto
               the glass, praying not to hit
                              the ground.

Hitting on the glass, the ticky-tack
Drip-drop pitter-patter paradiddle
Resounds in my mind.

I hear it, the rain, but not the rain.
I hear it, your voice.

The way you laugh, your rises and
falls, your tiny snorts, your aghast
gasps and sounds of speech.

Your lips parting and pursing, your
Tongue weaving a song, breath
Sounding and resounding
               with the rise and fall of your
                              chest, heavy with tender love.

The deep gray refracted in the water
Is so friendly, so inviting, when it
Speaks with your gentle voice.

It's raining outside, and I would bet
It's raining on you too. Maybe even,
The whispers in the rain,

Sound like me
to you.

I wish I could be a sticky note
On your mirror
Or an alarm on your phone

To remind you every day of how much
I appreciate you, of how much I
Love you, because

I notice all the things you do for me, like buying me coffee in the morning or
Kissing me to cheer me up; better yet

Always being there; The magically disappearing
Dishes from the table and the texts
Of concern; the countless reminders

Of how important I am.
But oh dearest, how important you are,
Moreso than the tides and the stars,

Because every day you choose love.

Doors will creak, and floorboards crack,
Your feet soft kisses on the wood
In this house, a terminal lies with
No one,
Going anywhere.
I see a flutter, of your ghost
Subtle memories of you,
Are what I dream of when I sleep
Not simply
A life without you.
Ruined if so
Today, though, is mine.

Ours.

Dark and thick,
It pours out over my tongue
On to the paper, through my
Chipped teeth.
The hand prints,
They aren't even mine that
Spread all over the
Canvas for words. It
Crawls out from inside
Like a sickness.
Hot and bubbly, the
Ink drips out. It tastes so
God awfully bad.
Arms buckled and nails
Scratching on the old wood
The retching fails to cease
Bringing nothing but
More Ink.
But nothing
Comes out.

Like the positron,

I must be an anti-version of me,
Travelling back in time,

And the me here and now didn't
Travel this path by chance;

The effect of me knowing you must
Have caused me to find you,

Because you are too phenomenal
For me to have found you by chance.

I will always love the
Scribbling scratched out scrawls
You make, whether ink on
Paper or the
Creases on your red lips,
They whisper to me both.

The walls are built
High and thick -- they
Are a border -- hardened
By age and time; I am

Ready to take them down
With my chain of two links --
The same chain that binds
Me -- keeping me from

You.

His card opens and closes, singing
Happy Birthday to him in the
Other room. He's six today.

I walk over to him, as he sits
In the darkness;
The hanging air as black as his skin.
I sit next to him in a hug:
"What's up kiddo?"
He replies with, "I like the singing"
But underneath the words, all
I hear is his voice from days ago,
"I don't like my skin. It makes me --

unloveable."

"I like the singing too, how about
We go play with your new Legos?"
His face lights up with a brightness
Only his dark tone could contain.
"Let's do it big brother!"
I tell him I love him.
I tell him I think he's beautiful.

His six short years, filled with more
Pain than I'll ever know.

I'm just glad he's mine.

For a bird, a girl, a friend, a love*

This new Winter has frozen deep; the
Frostbite pains to the core.
Faces so numb no smiles are shown,
Hearts chilled to black.
The wind sings a new song of nails on
Faces; A song of
Anxiety fills the air. Ice lays thick on her
Chest -- a weight she
Should not bear.

Tears stream over apple red cheeks, but
Freeze before they fall;
The boughs of trees bend down under the
Weights of winter to
Condemn her, to shed dead leaves of shame
Naught she deserves.

But there will come soft snows like
Wet kisses on brows,
And wet kisses of brows like petals
On sheets;
Love will warm like the rush of
A blush from stares,
The stares from eyes that reflect
Clear Winter skies.

Though it will still be cold -- and the
Wind a sting -- it
Will be like the season she once loved
So long ago,
And never will she be alone; never
Will her hand be empty.

I will be with you until
The sun is cold,
And I will love you until
We are old and withered,
And you are still  Goddess.
I know I will be with you
Because you
Are the only one I want
In my lungs,
Giving me my words and
Teaching my tongue --
Your habits of love
Change me daily and
I find myself
Speaking you.

Brown streams of cocoa pour down to the quicksand
Of deep brown, that pull in and don't let go.
The perfect curve of soft cliffs leads down
To the deep red tulip fields speckled with white rabbits.
Below the tulip fields are a constellation painted
So effortlessly into the ground,
And down below the lowest star, are red capped snowy hills
Like vanilla ice cream perfectly scooped,
Cherries, perfectly placed.
The tides of milk below the hills, so softly rise and fall
Frothless and smooth, delicious and free,
Waves so slow and rhythmic.

The white cliffs, so pleasing to roll down,
Scottish tulip fields, delicious to the lips,
Quicksand speckled with cocoa, a
Sight, I never grow tired of.

A beautiful place.
Persephone's lust and jealousy.

Spring is here, once again
Demanding of my soul
She tickles and pleases, tugs and teases
Till I finally relinquish it whole

When it launches out, the Devil comes near
Trying to inhabit my shell
Of a body. I hope he doesn't
Or I'm certainly bound for Hell.

Spring sprinkles her yellow
Demons in and around my head
While Satan unpacks his luggage in me, and
Lays down in his new bed

Just in time, when he's freshly in, everyone in
The room becomes a priest
They sit and wait so patiently
For my possession spasms to cease

I catch my breath, I take a bow
My episode is done
The saints give me their Holy
Blessings, feeling like they've won

The Devils ****-blocked, he's barely in
Then out, can't stay in me no more
Him and Spring have had their fling
His one night stand with that *****

I watch Spring walk away from me
With water in my eyes
That little ***** snakes away to
The flowers and her lies.

I will throw up words
made of barbs and spikes
that cut and ****, if it means
you'll stick around for just
a couple seconds longer.

My girl is a superhero:
With one foot she snuffs the smoldering
Cigarette **** her depression lies in, and
With the other she staves  the weight of a
Terrible job;
With her left hand she creates and makes
Beautiful things from a beautiful mind,
And with her right she craddles me,
All the while flying on the small vibrant
Wings of a robyn.

Stripes and frays
Been worn for days
It's threads know our
every love
The zippers worn
The seams are torn
It's seen more than
stars above
Though sometimes cold
Gets through the holes
It will always keep
us warm
It's knows the weight
Of our lemniscate
It's knows our
every form

The sweaters worn
The sweaters torn
But it's completely
irreplaceable
We'll keep it with us
For years
On end
It has a heart
Of it's own

Burn so green. Burn numbers, burn
faces, burn like Montag did so many years ago
-- mulch their ash until they are food for whiskers
between your toes. Fold the paper in origami
shapes until they are blades and bulbs and
branches; fold the paper into hats and planes
and quilt them into blankets for lovers.
Strip them of colour and print Bibles on them,
drowning them in water that will not dissolve.
Pull them tight across lips and blow on them
for reeds like thick blades of grass until
they hum like the wings of hummingbirds and
bumblebees and fill the air with audible chaff.
Send them covered in poetry in a brown paper
bag with that pretty girl you married long ago
for her lunch she didn't expect on that tired morning.
All this because you are blood and soil and earth,
and allow no less to tame you.