Love is the greatest force of all mankind...
of all cosmos, of all movement
of all that is wild and deranged
held safe in a locket, clandestine,
casually singing reigning from clouds of rain
sonnets of seismic sound sway trees
encouraging sodded fields grow greener than yesterday
yet sprightly and anew
soon
nudging the node
of the naysayers neighing,
bulging out their blue button ups
cramping, beastly belly's brooding to feast
on the blooming young,
the callow of a courageous continuum
trooping along gaily with gallantry
on trails, heralding gnarled roots

but this is rhythm
and rhythm is rhyme
and rhyme reconciles reasoning
"i love you for no other reason
but i love you"
says the tales of two
seeking singularity,
soaking in the sauna of one,
sovereign sun.

I woke up this morning
Depressed from a dream

In the dream, I was cradling
A little yellow bird
In my hands
I could feel a strong attraction
A bond
Love
For the small yellow bird
As it cheeped gingerly
In my cupped hands

I was walking through a vast field
With a carpet of waist high grass
With the little yellow bird


I told it to fly
And opened it's makeshift cage of
Flesh blood and bone
And it took off

But it had only just left my hands
When it dropped dead
Its tiny body being lost
In the gently blowing
Waist high reeds

I bent down and picked up its limp frame
One wing splayed over the edge of my palm
And I wept

I dropped to my knees and wept
The grass touching my face

Then I woke up
And I looked out the fogged, wet window
But outside
All the birds were black.

the first was in a dream
a ride in the clouds
then a slow circling waltz
and when we met in the centre I
kissed you.

the second was gradual
when the pink summer haze gave way
to a cold winter
and yet the warmth lingered
between our tangled fingers.

the third was a firework
when I saw you across the cafeteria
and the way you smiled
was as sweet as
the coffee that I left with.

i wonder what the fourth will be
and I know that it will come
but yet I can't help but wonder
if one day this warmth will

stay.

Drink rainwater from my blistered hands,
It’s salty.
When you have finished,
Look me in my bloodshot eyes.
No light flickers there.
Ask me if I’m okay,
You’ll never hear the reply you want.

clouded by home,
you troubled people
ask and destroy lives
to remake despair.

the power put in his hands
silenced her into that
familiar trap.

“i should have let her go.”

but he began attempting the
impossible, so used to looking
at the Gorgon, afraid to face
the sacrifice tightening
under his head.

“tomorrow?”

“dearest—!”

she flooded his heart with
goodbye.

Drunk. That tilt-o-whirl
feeling to like; remember
childhood and spinning
around in circles to get dizzy.

Myopia. All’s fuzzy around
the edges, but softened
reality isn’t any prettier.
Not impressed.

Indelible stamp, maybe, on your mind,
if not on mine. Hateful bonding.
Moldy melted bones where there's nothing sharp
to cut through. Inarticulate shame.
Inauthentically uninhibited. Laughing and waiting.

Blanket smoke, the breath of someone else's life.
Daytime: fools apart,
with no excuse, so...
Nighttime: fools together.
A fish or a bird pretending
to be each other can feel stupid.
What of those who won't fly or swim?

I feel anguished ; don't know
if that's foolish.
But I'll keep blowing hot and cold if you keep flipping
the switch.

I'm in a class,
We sit in chairs.
The teacher talks,
They listen and stare.

And I'm unfocused.

My pen is scratching,
My mind is clear,
The class is there,
And I am here.

And I should focus.

Oh, ****.
It's quiet.
Have I been caught?
This is something that I should not
Be doing
But I can't help it,
I'm trying to get it,
But my mind is flying,
And I'm sick of trying and
My brain is crying for
More than I'm offered and
**** IT!

I just can't focus.

tonight the sky died a little.
baked us in a soup thick as roux
           ****** lips,
                        loitering less,
                                meditations rests your head on my shoulder.

psychic fever functions as an embryo

                                             EAT. EAT. EAT.

you were amniotic happy! stifled great! pushing jelly feeding the joyous ooze!

Unlike Narcissus drowning,
As though in a puddle
Of his own courage drought,
Her time she gives away freely.
Like stopping her own gears;
Let it and all her mechanisms
Flow outward.


At night she seeks the glass.
Unspool her hair, she combs
Her musings, the yards she's given
To every inch-worth endeavor.
Generous, her heart and hope spring.
Gray, the world, and short, her time.
And she's never belonged
As truly as she does to her own head.


And in her mirror, there are colors
that dye the glass and allow
the best to shine in,
like stained windows in a church.
Under hers she prays.


Happy you may think the woman
Who sees what she likes under glass.
Would it could be preserved forever.
But who is to bring her flowers?
Who knows what kind to bring?


Which man can give the compliments
she’d most delight to receive?
What rites for each aspect of her visage?
No eyes could flatter like hers.
See in her Goddess Myth any fragility
to stand up to reflect the inner soul.


But you can’t put lungs in the looking glass,
And breathe air into those lungs.
Though she wants to pull
a gender-swapped mirror image
out into the world, her other half
is the man from Backwards Land.
It would have to be the reverse.
Else he'd expect to see his mirror image;
not to be the double of hers.