You build me with
turquoise and
the mountains of Taos.
Cerulean blue
serenity in my soul.
My heart chases
after you.
Even your chisel
helped me
grow through
the pain.
You
are the
grand artist,
The Supreme
sculpter.

I miss you like the December earth
      Misses the sunlit rays on a cloudy day
Cold for you I yearn each dawn
      And churn and burn as the aching Pacific waves
A crashing hope upon wishes bent
      At 11:12 my world set straight  
And all that a man can do is wish
      That this will be the fated day
You walk into my life
      And stay

I knew there was a turn
but it never turned up
and I kept walking straight
in search of it.

The road was familiar
the turn was on the left
in every known way
yet in the broad daylight
it left me.

I know you wouldn't believe it
neither did I
as alike a puzzled wayfarer
I kept on looking for the turn.

It happened to me.
P'raps it happens in other lives too,
the turn always there
keeps eluding.

Then when found,
it's no longer needed.

serve me a slice of pie
with a knife and two forks
and a side of stolen looks

we'll split our piece
equally discreet
severed, yet even and clean

quietly savoring the saccharine saliva
as our tongues linger over
a bite of shared sin

we talked
about?
um
all our
fathers
questions
raised but
never
answered

you
not the flower but
the bee kissing
rosebuds, making
living things
bloom

you
no sunrise on
mountains but
the sun
herself, every
flame burning fierce
sploding gainst
the sky

you
not an ocean but
a stream softly
babbling
and rescuing
us,
the lonely
the lost

you
not forever
but tragically
temporary
and every
moment
you are here
i will be
what i am -
the pollen,
the planets,
the wanderer,
the poet -
dedicated to
loving
you

fluid, I find myself
sprinkled glitter on canvas
songs, I lift with the Anthus
agazed with the black dye of hour’s twelfth

for such a beauty is that bank of wealth
that calls the day and marks the annus
it holds the sparkles, the light they grant us
it is the shadow to use for stealth

have we made lights that rival our days
that our perception we drown?
too often we crowd the stage
with enough light to go around
it may be time to disengage
and admire the background

I smile,
             but I don’t mean it
I cry,
             but you don’t see it
if time
             is what’s at stake
our lives
             are slowly fleeting
         –
you–
swat your hands through the web of our plans

you and I are not connected
         we are,
              strangers again
–
so what do you believe
are you still innocent to think–
that your lock is still genuine
that it'll work with my key?