I quite like the virginity of a fresh notebook
the way my wrists and palms drag across its leaves
breathing life between lines in pink magic marker or the severity of red ballpoint
I like the prickly practical meticulousness of a shopping list:
a dozen eggs
one pineapple
one bag of fresh spinach
one bag of English muffins
one bottle of dish soap
I like the tender impressions of curlie cues and firty cursive
communicating endearments placed on counters such as:
TAKE OUT THE RECYCLING YOU LAZY OAF ******* <3 XOXOXO <3
I enjoy the audacity of a wandering doodle
meandering
cartwheeling
hopskotching
between
and under and over
indices

and spaces
between shopping lists and death threats
i enjoy the lingering ghost of prose shaped caverns
carved onto seemingly empty sheets that carry on for pages
until they fade like whispers into an evanescence
I crave the obnoxiousness absurdity of a to do list
daring me to take a day off from procrastination
until tomorrow
call Gramma
rent due on the first of the muuuuuuuunth
take the GRE
update resume
be awesome. like a boss.
most of all
I love the pain and joy of a poem
the way it slowly leaks from heart to mind to hand to paper
staining
spaces
urgently
faster than muses whispers
barely escaping onto lines
prolific terrific poetry
sporadic spacious atrocious poetry
I croon over the denial of the last page of a beat up notebook
the way the paper hangs onto spirals haggard
littered with stringy remnants of lists and reminders and death threats and poems and goodbyes

Let drive at night.
And look at the moon.
Just find a secluded spot to relax.
And enjoy the beauty of the sky.

We speak about our future.
As we speak about our dreams.
The way we want to accomplish them.
Together as a team.

We not dreaming.
We just planning.
And we're very determine to make these things happen.

Love's not lost on us.
It all about us.

We're not hoping.
We just praying.
That our life will be successful forever.

This poem is dedicated to you.
You are the  best.
Silence. The most powerful of all nature.
There would be no comedy.
There would be no tragedy.
Stillness.
Imagine a world where we lived in silence.
No one spoke. Only body language.
Nature in its glory. Freedom
You are the best.
This poem is dedicated to you.

Spilled directly from my heart and soul
To you
From some year
In the past
Something
I just need you to know

I'm but twenty years of age
And I know nothing
Of the world
And nothing
Of living
Except
What I do know
Which is close to
I admit

Nothing

When compared
To great lives
Lived many times
Longer
Stronger
Greater
Larger
And even
Shorter
Weaker
Lesser
Smaller
But I am
Who I am
And, again
I've only lived
A fraction
Of what is considered
A
"Life"

But lately
I have an urge
Not really and urge
More of a
Want
But a strong
Want
And that
Want
Is
I want to raise a child

Strange
Yes
In times past
I'd be considered
A man
I'd be expected
To have a job
That paid well
And
The built-in
Instinct
To fight for
My life
And the lives
Of those I cherish
Deeply
But
On the inside
I know
I'm but a boy

I am not a man
By any stretch of the imagination
I am not a man
By any means at all
But
Out of nowhere
Over the past
Year
This sensation
Has been getting stronger
To have a child
And raise it
With someone
I love
A burning love
A simultaneously
Firy, cool, encapsulating, enrapturing, hexing, invincible, forever
Kind of love
And to raise it
With their best interests
For the future
And to impant
In them
All the love
In my heart
And have them know
That
As long as I'm around
Everything
Everything
Will be alright
Everything
Will work out
The way it's meant to

Because it's true
And I know it
It's just one of the things
These twenty years
Has taught this boy
However
I wish to give
This child
Everything
And
All
And
In order to do so
I have to establish
What I need to
Find an adequate
Source of monetary income
And
As hard as that seems
In this day and age
I will
Somehow
I will find a way
If only
For the life
Of my future
Child

I knew I was going to marry you
the first time we said good-bye.
It didn't feel like forever
(although I cried like it was).

I have this reoccurring dream
where I'm sitting in a bar
surrounded by my work friends
talking way too much shop for
a Saturday evening on the town.
You come right over to me
like we've been planning to meet here all along,
and coo, "Hi honey, long time no see."
You hug me so hard I want you to squeeze me
out of this life
to escape with you.

I have this other dream,
(not unlike ones most girls have
about their wedding days)
only mine isn't like theirs-
all planned out except for the man.
The only thing I have figured out
is you and the color of my dress.

We keep saying, "Not the right time.
Not the right place in our lives"
and I know its at least ten years off
for me.
And my psychic says I've never met the man I'll marry
but I think that's just because I met you so young
and we both have a lot of changing left to do.