Whiskey
dark chocolate,
smooth jazz, and some gritty
poetry are all that I need
tonight

Magic already exists
plain as day
known by another name.
We call it music.

Her curly hair sings!

And it enchants me, it is --


electrostatic.

Angels come flying

in, hear, here must be heaven --


where the ***** sounds.

Breathe in the fresh air.
Soak up the sunlight.
Travel everywhere.
Stay up till midnight.

Wear your hair down.
Play your favorite songs.
Put on a flower crown.
Bring your friends along.

Then turn off the music,
and listen to the roar of the waves.
Bury your feet in the sand.

Let all your worries float away.

I've somehow stretched every limb
into a series of exhausted yawns
Now the rhythm of this day
Is with you
But it seems,
I am not the only one
With words breezy enough
To make you laugh
Because as I round the corner
I can hear the air rippling around you
And everything becoming lighter and lighter
Until you, a sun in everyone's galaxy
Illuminates the disillusioned
delusional rhythm makers
All here to gift you their love

--slightly out of tune

Am I right to hedge my bets on being famous, ply my arts all day alone,
silence, no tv? Mark said, the difference is people are actually listening
to **** Jagger, but I thought that’s not so big a difference.

When Dad died it only reinforced the futility of our daily efforts
notwithstanding my hopeful eulogy about our responsibilities to each
      other.

People listened then, and closely, searching for an echo
from the abyss. What is this abyss and how do I know
it’s there?

The finest of Spirits, that touched My Lips.
Was never that intoxicating.
Neither did their sweetness Eclipse,
the Magic your Kisses kept Creating.
No Melody I heard, was played that Fine.
To be Music to both My Ears.
Nor have Notes had those sadful Words.
The Way your Voice, bring out My Tears.
The finest Silk that touched My Skin,
was never that Tender, Smooth or Light.
They never wrapped Me with Finesse.
As your Arms do for Me every Night.
The World offered Me Diamonds and Gold
and Gifts as Pure as the Morning Dew.
But none of them caught My Eyes,
as My Eyes were set on U.