Bright tambourine shaker, where are you?
Shake over me, shake.  Fill this desert!

Sift the sands around my lonely oasis.
Dig up all its well-hidden treasures.

Come into me unfurled, unfettered.
Find the delights, measure by measure.

Searching hands seek to interlace
As vines, among a secret grove, this garden.

The arms of a mighty cedar, you 
Are still strong, though grown old.

Never mind that.  Come home.
Dwell here and stay forever. O, stay!

My nomad, become the vine that wraps me
By the heat of day and cold of night, stay.

Become my incidental canopy of full cover 
For your every whim and unspent pleasure.

I make the music, give the bursting springs
Within this isolated place of treasures.

She is new mown grass,
A butterfly’s gentle caress
On a blushing rose bud.

She is the scent of fresh pine
Wafting through warmer climes,
As refreshing as morning dew.

She is like the yellow-green shaft,
Blades of picked sweet grass
Held within one’s teeth.

Sweeter than a baby's breath,
She is the sparkle in lovers’ eyes,
The essence of every beautiful song.

Antiquity was waiting to breathe
And awaiting the moisture of lungs.

A hole, eyeball wide, offered just a peek;
Along with an ancient mote,
Which flew from eternity into sight.
Remarkable things were seen!

In the heat the buzz was slight.  
As was the bite.  But, ultimately,
The fevers started burning in the night
(For after all, the cobra had eaten the yellow canary).

How your coverings and remains sparkled like the sun!
Thousands of years of hiding suddenly undone.  

But, we all rot together, eventually eaten.

My granny loved Banny hens.
They are small but they can be feisty.
Just as was she.

I cannot hear your name
Without an apparent melancholy, and yet
I am indifferent to everything but your name.
You see my predicament,

I, causing my own stab to the heart, say
It over and over again.

You had completely satisfied all that my heart
And affections had hoped for or even wished.
“Baraye,” is a word meaning “for”
Or “because of” in Farsi.

In the style of John Martyn, songwriter

You speak but I know
It's just some cliche to mouth
As your truth trickles from my eyes

I wish we could wash mourning away
To dissolve on a rushing tide, and
Hear the sound of the rushing sea
As it conquers and divides

Look inside your own mind, 'cause
You are the lining for mine as you
Roam the corridors round and round
Leaving echoes of our love behind

I wish I could change ignorance to light
But we've already burned out
Like stars burning too long and too bright
So, just lay down your sword

'Cause I'm already too tired to fight
Then you can have what's left
From the spoils of my mind

Life can be so silly
In all its absurdities;
And the strangest of things
Can bring us to our knees.

Yes, I am strange, unusual see?
But quite happy in my deformity.
I love this solitude of mine and me,
And life's absurdities.

Early to bed
Never to rise,
Circling around a thought
That keeps me paralyzed;

Here,
In the womby-tomby
Safety of my coverings
I begin to realize;

I don't want to remain unborn.

I ate tears for food
Love comes at a price
For some a little, for some great

I ate tears off porcelain plates
Had I known the price up front
I would choose to starve

Because
I can take a piece of paper
And write our story
To be whatever we want
And then dream together

I reach for you in the dark
The sheet is cold
My side is warm
Amidst star-shine through
The curtain, a light
Which only illuminates
The sparkle of my tears

(My great-grandmother lost most of her family on the forced march, which came to be called the Trail of Tears.  Indigenous people were moved off the land they had been on for thousands of years, no doubt.  This poem is for them.)

Dancing Rabbit dips one paw
Into clear creek waters. Pink nose wiggle,
A shake of the head to ready thoughts.
Leaps into the unknown histories of a people
Who knew these lands long before blue eyes.

There is something about poetry.  It moves in waves
To the beat of its drum, in its own time and cadence.
A poem is a naked thing born of stripped bare bones,
We crave its touch as one craves a lover's.

The world might not hear anything like it for years
Until one day a reborn version will set it on fire.
Its layers add meaning to the meaning of the familiar.
Rich in its complexities it speaks to our souls,

Reaching for those moments no one else has touched.
It is like a love letter to our past that haunts us going into
The present.  It is a beacon of hope not until like a melody.
Words are gathered and then we pin them down to the page.

A poem is just a song stripped of its music.
If only I had another lifetime within this lifetime
The music and words would never stop.  And yet,
You cannot reach for and grasp a mist to save in a bottle,

But poetry can.

His ex tried to warn me;

He was a serial monogamist.
Love would always die,
Truth be told, he killed it.

A leap of faith would be required,
After years of painful memories of first love
I thought I'd take a chance and step off.

It was almost my last leap!
How was I to know that I was jumping
Into the arms of a fool?

I glanced out and there he was
Sleeping like a bug in a rug
On the hard cement ledge.

Where has he been, my homeless man?
Hospital, jail, a shelter for a change?
I was just getting accustomed to him gone.

But there he is once again in my purview.
Oh, the drama, to see a being always sleeping.
How could he have caused me such worry.

I love you beyond the moon
Beyond the stars

Beyond all reason
Beyond any metaphor

Which I could create
And then I love you still

Beyond the body and mind
Limits set not by man, but God

On and on, and yet more
Beyond time, tide, shores

Then, my darling, I love you
Beyond these boundaries

And back again.

When anger, rivalry & jealousy
Fade away we are left
With only deep-seated love
And with the DNA that binds us.

The thing within itself, yet, without
The eating of its own flesh in mouth

The chewing until raw
- emotion all

I see you consume, be consumed

You stand
Gathered together,

The lines of your branches,
The ink of your markings
Standing out.

On your grey-white paper
I will fill your book
With beautiful poetry.

You stand
Gathered together,
The lines of your branches,
The ink of your markings
Standing out.
On your white paper
I will fill your book
With beautiful poetry.

-inspired by Vianne Lior's Dove in Bloom

Somewhere between
Reality and reverie
I see, and it becomes

The birds bloom
And fly in flows
Pinions full-blown

I could scarcely paint
A more beautiful picture
As they with sinew

Strive to stay ground-free

Many are the days of gain in life,
And many are the losses, too.

I hope your gains are many
And I hope your losses few.

On stormy days,
The balcony door open,
I sit listening, watching,
And feeling an electric air.

There is the sound
Of seagulls crying out.
The wind whips in uproar.
Pregnant black clouds overhead

Churn with birth pains
Wanting to release their burden
Onto the earth beneath.
I watch and wait.

Clouds billow and bellow,
Swirling above the house tops.
With the temperature's sudden drop
The sweat from their brows

Begins to drip in relief to all.

Metamorphosis
The art of embracing transformation
The butterfly knows

The magical chrysalis
A curtain surrounding and hiding
Lead to gold

Alchemy's
Noble metals embrace the change
Molecular royalty

Elements in crucibles
Heat within Earth's crust
Pressure making diamonds

Plasticity, purposed
Life withdraws and reemerges
Days shorten and lengthen

Seasons of Earth's cycles
Re-emergence of life after winter dormancy
Flowers burst from buds

With each revolution
Hidden dynamics await explosions of change
Adapting to an evolving will

Evocative
Liquidating what something once was
Wrought from the inside out

Life itself
Bursting with a sense of possibilities
Moments of physicality

And we imagine
We dream possibilities
We crave fantastical change

If we are brave
If we are flexible as is nature
A mind is our most valuable instrument

Filled with ephemeral nature,
Fragility, and beauty
Consistent change dependable

Retreat into self
Re-emerge as something new
Butterflies certainly do

Life is a vessel
Which holds both the real and the hypothetical
Creativity

Neither predator nor prey,
I lie here while morsels slowly filter down;
Loving every greedy minute, getting fat.

Like the breath of an infant
Blooming new each day
Sweet toiletries
Fresh fragrance
Life unfolds before us

Natural bounties
Fruit bearing
Baring flesh
Sensory experiences
Gifts given, again and again

Never prosaic
Supreme variety
All for me, for you
We must remember
When taking, to give

Oh, Butterbean,
My bovine queen,

Tell me what you've seen
In yon field of grass and buds.

I heard your bell tinkling
As you were exploring

Seeking out the most tender
Of the luscious blades to wrap

That massive tongue around.
You are a grand lass,

I must say,
Grand among the cattle.

I'll meet you at the statue of the boy by the stream.
You know, the one of the boy who is peeing?

Oh, that's not what I intended to say!
But you know the one and what I mean.
.
Well, that's where I'll meet you, anyway.
I will be there, then we'll both be seeing.

Beautiful things
Do not always
Remain

Shiny and new.
At times they
Become

Seasoned into
A thing special
And true.

Just like my life,
Of living & loving,
Aging with you.

Waiting for Spring, lovely, tall ladies hold their breath and eye one another.
"Do we dare to open to the season?  Catch a breath?"

The dry leaves will soon crumble in the warm sun
And crunch under our feet; just so much fodder for chic maidens.

Inhale deeply Sol's rays.  Breathe!  Open to the season
And don your Spring bonnets, full-petaled.

Come here.  Look,
The grass is fading, and soon
The snowbirds will arrive.
Unmoved, they'll watch from afar
And, O, so shall I,
- trembling,
For fear that they may fly.

I took each flower
Given me by you
I placed them in a jar
To dry and to keep true
Forever thinking of you
Who knew  
That love could be
Like a dry, brittle flower
With no longer hope of life

"I'm not much of a poet," he said,
As he broke my heart with his words
On the pages that I read.

With tiny feet
Stuck on dead meat
You proboscis-probe
******* juice;
And yet, you are
Beautiful.

When does your spring come,
Calendar Slave?  Only once a year?

Listen to this precious secret of life:

When true to your authentic self
Spring can come every day.

When I hear that piece I will think of you.
The fading memory will start anew.
Recessed within a heart and mind
I soon will find,
You.

Sitting on the steps
Downtown Lyric building
Near my bus stop

Artsy sculpture
Behind where I sit
Fabulous place

Exciting to watch people
Passing by in business attire
Fresh air sweeping through

My Metro life now past
Wanting to re-capture
The excitement of the time

I let myself drift back
Get the feel of nostalgia, then
Resurface into the present life

So, it would seem, yes it would seem,
My fellow, you have been caught
Between the wings.
Between the wings, my lover,
Like some flitting thing.
A buzz and a hum
Between fingers and thumb
You are such an amazing specimen.

Go celebrate today
For you won’t be able tomorrow,
Nor will you feel like it.

The golden age has turned orange.
What you thought was gold
Has proven to be faux.

Life is just uncertainty
Everything, a mess
The alternate thing is only death

Run your fingers through my hair
And rest
Answers are everywhere

You, a watermark
just beneath my skin;

A page of text in
my mind, which

I choose to read
over and over, again.

The next round is rolling up
As everything goes down

You look like you lost a $10
But only found $1

Trust me, you will bleed
Green and blood

He will never be bled to death
But you certainly will

One night I was swimming in my bed
At least I was swimming in my head
When a great bird flapping, suddenly
Flies off the screen of my theater-eyes
Its flit was quite swift, and it was fleet
As I run after it on bright shiny streets
I realize that I am in a hospital dying
Running after the bird was me trying
To stay alive

Alt. ending:  To stay alive, kept me from dying

Our hearts were thumping,
Adrenaline pumping, time racing.
And we knew, we just knew.
We knew there was something
Miraculous, magical happening.

In the dense misty forest shade
We had lain with evening falling,
My head on your cradling arm,
Peeking through canopy leaves.

As a heavy dusk covered us both
We had lain on into the night
While watching the stars rise
And night clouds rolling by
Clinging to each other with deep sighs.

I tell you,

This life, it takes and takes;
Of this, we all must get a grip.

With each new birth, I tore apart,
With gaping cervical rips.

And though I fed you long ago,
No longer can I hold you to my breast;

For now, is the time that you must go
And stand upon two legs.

I tell you, go, you must nourish yourself.

What doesn't **** you doesn't **** you.
It does not necessarily make you stronger.
Does a crack in the wall make it stronger?

The bone heals the fracture.  Stronger -
The pipefitter welds the pipe.  Stronger -
Only work on "the broken" can make it stronger.

Become stronger -

I love you.
I do not like dancing around that thought.
It rattles like a pebble in my brain.
It becomes a stone in a wall of the insane.

But I love you and I am fraught.
What to choose?
The possibilities of me and you
Solidifies the brickwork of a windowless room.

I love you to my own doom.

The most exquisite symbol that I could give,
“A teardrop on the cheek of time”.  This tomb
Of my heart white walls of marble enclose.

Nothing matters.  Even if the people suffer,
Their blood will stain the Makrana stone;
Unclean, no longer pure.  My love rests

With your moldering body forever.  Only
Our youthful memories keep me until
I lie with you, again, Mumtaz.

One star waiting in the sky
All of the others hid.

A game of hide-and-seek
And I find.

Beneath clouds smile
And stay awhile

Until the sky clears
And I can see them all there

Waiting with sparkling smiles.
Clouds warming them all the while.

Ballerina clouds dance overhead
elephants, rabbits, pigs, and bears
Pirouetting here and there
with an alligator nipping at their heels.
When quickly appears giant hands that come
to gently clear them all away.
And the sun suddenly shows its face
as it comes out to play.