I followed a writer
up a prodigious tree
Every leaf I brushed,
his poem.

From the crown
I scanned the pastoral
a poetic landscape in repose,
A resplendent chorus of
Glistening verdant wisdom.

O’ vast vibrato of sibilance
slipping the breaths of
Thalia and Melpomene!
Alight by dusk, I lingered.

Comes the long wind of winter
to undress each tree!
So from my aerie,
through gaunt branches,
I could see…

The low-slung place
where each poem fell
I thought, “here so many,
clothed in so much comedy
and tragedy…
recite their odes
of heaven and hell.”

And down I climbed
and away I walked
Over quiescent leaves
while red and russet
ran from their dendritic veins
Moldering into the palette
of dormant memories.

O’ even now
The sweet scent of decay
Reminds me of Spring
when I will climb again.
From the rot of the roost
to the dust below boots,
by the pen of the winter writer
Spring will come again.

and you clung to me
the way wet jeans
stick to my legs
in hard rain
and we may have well been soaked
because that night
you cried enough tears
to flood this whole town
you cried enough tears
to drowned us both
it's a good thing we float
your heart was a storm
beautiful
mysterious
unpredictable
misunderstood
and let's not forget
potentially destructive
but i didn't care
i wanted to understand
to feel
to devour
every drop of your pain
every ounce of your shame
i wanted to show you
the sun inside you
i wanted to show you
the new day
that's waiting
behind your leaky eyes
and runny nose
and broken soul
but for now
you can cling to me
release you agonies
and i will never
let you think
that you are anything less
then gold
and i will never make you feel
that you are anything less
then whole
and i will never
let you sink
so hold me tight
and don't let go