Here is where I take your smile and
stretch it into a sunset, I
remember your words to mean
everything they didn't
I make haikus out of eyes and note how
they emit light when you laugh
This is where I draw you indelible
on the pages of a notebook
I color you vivid, write you
permanent, take non-fiction and
turn it fantasy,
Into something we might watch
together on a Sunday night
I designate you hero of the story and
I wait with tired arms
to be lifted into yours
Here is where I create a landscape
out of ash and worship you with
language you don't deserve,
vocabulary that is too big for your small
Here is what could easily be a love poem if
you were someone who wanted one but
the only want you have isn't for me

We are ocean

We are unfurled fury
We are peaceful compassion
We are unknown

As we push against the sands of time
Irreconcilable
We beat, we beat, we lapse

Children await us
Searching the horizons for our source of strength

And the sun sets once more
relinquishing it's last bit of light
giving a reflection of what can be.

the world keeps spinning
and we are just dancing in the wind.
free falling off of canyons,
my toes are dangling over
surrendering
to ocean waves.
sunset kisses engulf my cheekbones
and i become the universe
swallowing stars,
constellations climb up my earlobe
whispering sweet love songs
i want to hold you in my fingers
tickle your heartbeat
then stick the rhythm in my pocket
and reference back tomorrow.
tomorrow
cotton candy textured cumulus
produces rain
that only brightens this earth
tomorrow
we will glide along the melted teardrops
and float upon
the stairway carved by angels.
you are the glue
piecing together secrets
tossed in shallow graves
and wishing wells
i wish i could make love to your being
i want all of it at once
melting
drop by drop
i collect the residue
and then drink it with my medicince
what is sense but nonsense
language is only hieroglyphics
we need to talk with our eyes
and sing to each others hearts
then kiss them
and store them
in our desk drawers.

you could swallow the moon with those cherry red lips
that draw so deeply on your cigarettes.
throw me one,
and light it with these flames of desire.
i want to clear the cobwebs,
dust away the secrets that hide under elegant rugs,
and collect them in mason jars
like fireflies,
the wind shall carry them away
and leave us alone.
at last;
free from these bustling
highways and creaky doors
where we will
finally gobble up the silence
and make music of our own.
so let us dance,
dance in the green grasses,
chain smoke these love notes
then spill onto rustled satin sheets.
yet
sometimes i wake up alone
bothered by these dreams
of sharing a pillow with your curly head
i must make you up inside of my head
i am getting lonesome on sail boats
and open roads
yet i want all of you,
in my pocket,
in my trembling body,
every piece,
you

The clouds are swollen,
suffocating the open blue.
yet
there are eyes poking through
shedding light on the lonely cobwebs
and dusty corners
that are hard to reach
in the cold.
sometimes
time is just the hour glass
spilling sand under your tongue
leaving truth that is bitter.
and the hardest part is
transition
gears become rusted without movement
the comfort of always being comfortable
can taint the mind
so
it is time to run
pour oil on the secrets
that were forgotten
this wind that blows
is a metallic symphony
and it shall blow you
where your feet are meant to be.

The moon hung lazy in hazy city sky
the air silent and pure - untouched
and she was the anima to your animus
that pretty little thing you sat in an empty parking lot with
talking until three AM
she was touching her hair a lot
and you remember reading something about body language
which said that means she likes you
courage isn’t being born standing tall
courage is knowing when to follow your love off that cliff
courage is faith that somehow she will be there
waiting to catch you
a safety net made of shy smiles
and a nervous mouth filled with run-on sentences
and paint stained hands on your ribs
a soul isn’t some ephemeral entity trapped inside of you
a soul is the anger and lust and passion that directs you
all of these words are silly little fickle things
pigeons which take flight the moment you get close
all of these actions are breathless, frail things
old men and women determined to take the stairs
she told you that you she had fun
you said me too
and I want to see you again
she said me too
sitting there in that empty lot
the heater barely on in the car
beneath a canvas full of long dead stars
you took a leap off of that cliff
and for a moment
you forgot how to drown

the children are all running wild among the crab grass
eating the wrong colored berries that their parents warned them of
just to find out for themselves
they play cops ‘n robbers
cowboys and indians
a gun is a stick is a gun
and I’m sorry to say
but that kid over there just shot you dead
you have to fall over now and play tragedy
a mess of sticks, plywood, and leaves is a home
they all ate way too much candy
and are throwing up rainbows all over the new carpet
crying over spilt ice cream melting on the pier
cringing not from the ****** skinned knees
but the expected sting of the alcohol
the only thing they fear is sitting still alone
now watch them as they try to ride the neighbors dog
and climb trees so that they might have the view of Gods
gambling their future for fun
not fluent in the language of consequence
and they don’t get too worried about what they don’t have
because they haven’t developed object permanence yet
not yet are they jaded from life
they run around in the hot sun with red ears and noses
until the sun goes down and their mothers call them home for supper
and we envy them only because they know so much less than us
and ignorance is bliss

Sometimes he let his eyes rest on hers, it needn't have been painful,
but it strangely was.
He broke a lifetime of avoiding eye contact to show her.
She was worth overcoming obstacles for.

She is beautiful.
Not in the way of Helen of Troy.
Nor in the way Barbie is idolized.
No.
She is beautiful.
Like the sunset reflects
off a serene lake.
Like a breeze that grazes
the skin on a hot summer day.
Like a full moon that cuts through
a midnight fog.
Her beauty does not lead men to war.
Nor does it lead women to starve,
cut and make-up who they are.
No.
Her beauty demands attention,
inspires creation
and crumbles the prisons
of convention.

Rinse
Repeat
A simple man, trapped by society,
Raised to feel indebted to his family
His fantasy is printed and framed
Above the job's lobby. A beautiful
Scene of the mountains in Nagasaki.
The clear air clears the clouds
Of the the solvent factory
So he sits and stares
Ever unsure of his trajectory.
Rinse
Repeat
The quality of his life is priced
At $4.50. If he can't get his fix
Of burritos and churro sticks,
His world turns to bricks.
His grip slips.
The slight weight shift on his hips
Strips his exuberant demeanor
Like a lunar eclipse.
Rinse
Repeat
When he tries to adlib the script,
Life and love kicks him in the intelligence.
His happiness doesn't take precedence
Over the dead presidents he needs
To keep his residence. It's evident
In his directionless aggressiveness,
He feels irrelevant to his existence.
So, he slows the pistons of his brilliance.
Rinse
Repeat
His silence has made him forget his presence
He's become convinced that washing metal prints
Isn't against his will. That the fulfill-
Ment of another's vision is the pill
To his sickness. Like the use of litmus
Will heal his mental limpness
Between 9 and 5. The only thoughts
He completes are *rinse and *repeat