I've been hunting
In the forest of dreams,

Getting drunk and
Listening to Jefferson Airplane
For the very first time.

It's a night for dreaming I suppose. I've just broken the barriers of love for a man I've known so long that I've nearly forgotten who he is. A piece of furniture in my strange little room.

I'll make a list
Of the things I see here
Apart from his lingering eyes:

A musc stand
A jewelry box
A chair
A dress - Not mine, though it was once

Young girls and their blues
Come to me from the feather in the meadow.
Listen for the ticking of my footsteps.

That's poetry.
God that's poetry.
Why can't I write like that?

It's like looking my enemy in those bright, tremoring eyes
And facing my envy with my ego and my ahmmer

That's beauty.
God she's beautiful.
Why can't I be beautiful like her?
Why can't I appreciate Jefferson Airplane like she does?

I've convinced myself that I hate her for her moral depravity.
For so liberally spreading her character and her legs.

I know I hate her because I hate myself.
And because everyone loves her, not me.
. Ad were I half the human being I portray, none of this would matter.

Understanding is a virtue hard to come by.
You could teach me how to love if you try.

My husband will sleep with his head all buried down and at the foot of his bead.
I'm certain I'll abuse him, emotionally at least
He'll have to be the hardest or softest poor ******* tht ever lived.
I tread on everyone's good emotional graces with my obtinance and determination in being obstinate.
It is, as it always will be, about my happiness.  
I'd rather have my country die for me.

Stream of confidence:
Consciousness and the problem with it is that my mind moves faster han my hand can crsft
Door, bell, whistle, heart, *****, therapy, tea, love, mint, ice cream, mother, father, ring, matrimony, and there it ends.
Matters only of the heart.
I'll eventually ***** all of the rest of the things that I haven't wanted to say to anyone anyway.

I feel as though someone is in this room with me
Maybe that's just the distortion pedal talking.
Listen to those drums
Like a heartbeat
Like a war cry

I swear the Earth just moved from beneath my soul.
Once, I bet, I;ve had that kind of primal instinct

A hunter
After his dream game
A drunken huntsman never misses his mark

You are
The puckered kiss
Of lemonade
On an August afternoon

You are
The sunset
Watching me fall prey
To the same August moon

You are
Well-spent hours
On the telephone
Sweetly sighing

You are
The gilded lilies
In their valley-bed
Gently lying

I am
A love like a river
That drowns
The dreams of hope

You brave
The troubled waters
Daily
In your little love-boat

And when
My soul will leave me,
Unburdening
Its load

You are
The other end
Of my life's journey

To you
I am owed

I had almost forgotten
The unhappiness of my memory.

The wind caught word
Of your scent
And lifted me onward
To a future in which
I could still hold your hand.

I kissed your lips once more
In the tears of a dream.
I felt departure
As a meaningless journey
On the basin of its river.

I have taken so literally
The strong arms of time
As they've held us apart,
Giving way
Only to memory and ashes.

Loneliness cradles me as a mother
And I,
As a child,
Sleep.

Dreaming of saving grace.

If a man exists
And no one
Takes note
Of his life,
Does he exist
*At all?

Last night
As the stars caved in
And the new moon
Aged suddenly before me

He kissed me
On the forehead
Before resting in my arms

And my body
Crumbled beneath the weight
Of his heart

He whispered:

Hold hands with my mother
Tell her that I love her
Though not enough to keep me
From God

Do not lay claim on my father
It was not he
But the folly
Of his consequence

Give a kiss
To my sister
Tell her
That I'll miss her

And to hold her arms wide open
When the world comes falling down
Within her love

I could never
Love you more
Than I do
Now.

Of the things
That I'll never have -
Among them are you
And satisfaction.

The ring
Upon my finger
Imprisons my heart
In anticipation

Of the joy
That I long
To give
To you.

It is only my mind
That prevents
The danger
Of desire.

I've loved and wept
In the fragrance
Of cologne,
As it leaves your memory behind.

I've loved and wept
In autumn skies of eyes,
That free a prisoner
With hope.

And for the first time
I've thrown down my reason,
And loved you uncontrollably
Without having you at my side.

I've waged war on logic's regeme
And won with the rebellious spirit
Of the French
Kiss.

Imagination conceived
In a gaze.
A life of happiness passes
With the coy flutter
Of an eyelash.

And I could never
Love you more
Than I do
Now.

As the reflection
Of independence
Fades away
In your footsteps

As wandering eyes
Remind me
Where my home
Will be.

As reason and fear
Eradicate
The wrongs
Of the quick-thinking movements
Of my heart.

I could never
Love you more
Than I do
Now.

A light 
At the end of the tunnel
Leads to salvation
Or so they say.

If only motion
Could be as easily halted
As it is begun.

The train
As she forges onward.
Whistle-blowing steam
Pressing blindly
Through the heat,
And the darkness

Behind her.
Before her. 

And what of our love?
Inferno's tinder.
Coals crafted in
Sublunary sentiment
Solid. 
As the product 
Of a century's pressure.
Of a century's decay.

Beneath her.
Within her.
Above her.

Our ignited passions ahead,
Distant and unattainable.
Joy and deliverance
As determined
Solely
By the absence of darkness.

Despite her.

If only motion
Could be as easily halted
As it is begun.

I'll choose never to believe
That it is salvation
Alight
At the end of the tunnel.

Twenty-four year
Car ride home.
Empty nest.
Hearts still full?

Heart in heart conjoined.
A life and love
Conceived amongst
The thistles of fantasy.

I’ve found a rose
Destined to become
Its thorn.

I’ve found a lily
Alone
In the driest of valleys.

Kiss me,
And my lips
Will wither with wanting.

Petals
Fallen seedless to the earth.
And yet,

I love you.

Mother Mother,
I heard the sound of your voice
Cradled in the warmth
Of your warmth.
The ocean waves
Formed my memory,
Created the beat of my heart.

Mother mother,
A joy in the light.
Hand held to shaking feet,
Feet held to earth ,
Earth held to possibility.
A gift  
Through open doors.

Mother mother,
A book of truth.
The letters outlined
By curiosity.
The words tied
In anxious tongue.
Inquiring minds want to know
What is love?
What is life?

Mother mother,
A playmate
For golden days.
Castles made in nothing
Less permanent than sand.
A cyclical motion
From end to end
In happiness.

Mother mother,
I have betrayed you
For foolishness kept
In envy of mystery.
A diamond
In pauper’s hands.
A soul unbounded
By reason
In the darkest hour
Of my abyss.

Mother mother,
I will return to you -
Forsake me not.
Love bereft of condition,
Love in the steps of a child.
Cradle to earth,
Earth to the heavens,
Carried on the love of
Mother mother.

Adolescence is for love
Unconditional and perpetual.
Mother's arms and lullabies,
Father's kisses preceding goodbyes.

Thunderstorms
And closet monsters.
The safety of parents' pillows
Like home.

Love discovered and love new,
Daisies and playground sand,
Notes passed from one hand
To the next.

Little heart
That drums and stutters
To beat
I love you.

On starry rooftop nights,
With us cautious adolescent lovers.
Backseat romance,
And radio's tune.

The belief persists
That there is only now.
The past is still then.
The future is soon.

I think you are beautiful.
Dawn-kissed river hair
Conceals porcelain visage.
Perfect lines,
Perfect angles,
Heart-shaped lips,
Golden rectangles.
Each laden with
Stoic apathy.
Only we know
Their secret fallacy:
Time.
Between us.
A year,
Feeling like a few.
Other lands tread upon by weary feet.
Your body shakes,
And my heart trembles, too.
Limpid pools of green-blue extravagance,
World withdrawn soul,
Spilling emotion,
And truth -
Fully.
I think you are beautiful.
-
And if love had any explanation
It would begin with your name.
I must have recited a thousand times
"You and I."
"I and you."
And love.
I love you.
Just like that,
In exactly that way.
Purposely
I suppose,
I left the feeling alone;
Doubtlessly fearful -
The two of us at home
With green-blue rivers of our own.
Mistakes we had made,
Truth unspoken,
What little we had gained,
From the things we had not shown.
I love you.
And already
I have more.

Brown eyes,
Soul as she
Trudges through
These Demi-Ichorous lagoons
Of romantic mire.

Suspened tear-shaped vessels
From which sorrow
Bares down on soul's
Amber gated soil;
And memory,
Upon memory,
Upon memory,
Entrenches her feet.

Time immobile,
Despite vague recollection
Of retrospection.
Rain in anguish endured,
Devoured by these russet shoals,
And yet still remains this marsh-like nostalgia.

Branchless wasteland,
A collection of Earthen mounds
In sienna hue -
Barren in sky's womb

But God save the oak tree!
Hope's ne'er forsaken pillar
Kept a constant distance
Absent the stronghold of grasp.

Some circle of brown-eyed hell
I suppose,
Keeps the satisfaction
Of soul's salvation
Just beyond reach.

Change,
I am no longer in need
Of your comfort.

I've found a stillness
In your tempest.
I've found a pathway
In your desert sand.

Cautious to be contented
Yet I feel the winds
Steadying the sails.
I feel the desert earth
Grow green beneath my feet.

Change,
I am no longer in need
Of your care.

I've found the sunrise
On calmer shores.
I've found an oak tree
On your tundra.

Cautious to be contented,
Yet I feel rays of gold
As fire in the darkness.
I've found an oasis
To replenish my soul.

Darling,
I am only in need
Of you.

I've found withering coals
In the furnace of my passions.
I've found diamonds
In-between.

Cautious to be contented,
Yet I've found joy
In the nearness of our future.
I've seen your likeness
In my dreams.

If only such places existed more than in the mind.
The gentle greetings
Of gods and men
The space between
Our golden archways
Above our golden moments in time
Worthy only of themselves
And the champions of their kind.
If only such places existed more than in the mind.

A feather
Of a feather
Aloft by chance;
Falling from Father Time's favor
As his footsteps
Leave history behind.

The ages of empires,
The scintilla of genius,
Are breaths of wind,
Flickering stars,
Far in the distance.

Alas,
Poor Yorick -
He never had a chance.

Melody
Surround me
Note upon note
Chord upon chord
In quixotic harmony

Imagine me
In company of divinity
Strumming the heart strings
Of the Lord I love
With my love
Lyric he'd sing
To tune of soul's design.

Sweet melody surround me!
Note upon heavenly note!
Chord upon celestial chord!
In quixotic harmony.

Rock star jacket -
You know the one.
Cowhide in thirteen shades of black.
The fur on an orange collar -
Memories in multi-colored stains.

Back in the "Stardust" days
It was all over your face,
Fame.
In thirteen letters and hues.

F was for father.
A runaway train from society's desires,
Given only your cowhide
And your Stardust make-up.
F was the battle

Cause and effect,
I suppose.
Life in the doghouse
Never fared well for the adolescent,
Though it always had the best in mind.

M was for myopic.
"Liberation!"
You screamed.
Echoing in the empty cells
Of like minded believers.
M was the enemy.

Vowels are but a collection
Of open-mouthed vibrations,
Stirring the vocal chords
With minimal importance.

Show me a meaning
That began with you.

Consonants give
That sound
Of importance
To everything.

Ziggy.
Rock Star.
Fame.

Your hair is a taste of paradise.
Impassible honey river
The Eden of working bees.
Those dreamers of dreams,
From rivers like yours
To more plausible streams.
Cascading sunshine:
Golden rays curl about your eyes
Light lending life to color.
A sweeter gaze,
Melting cores of sugary sentiment.
Still sour judgements
Pursue the insecurities
Of the worker bee.
Sha Ka Ree?
Oh he dare not dream!
Yor hair is a taste of paradise.