Standing before her
on one foot,
as though surveying
a Renoir,
he is overwhelmed by splashes
of red from her nails,
her lips.
Shifting to level
he is entranced
by her blue, twinkling eyes,

His gaze is one of awe.
Uncritical he hears
her hair sweep
across her shoulder,
as rustling wind blown
across West Texas
fields of barley.

Her words
cool his bare toes
as though dipped in
Box Elder creek’ s flow through
rocks, eddies and fallen limbs.

Her moves
have the grace of cirrus skies,
he thinks
this is my picnic spot,
my settling spot
fit to build a cabin.

Then he knows,
love is here.

Not quite sure, am I,
Neither certain nor at ease.
I find no resolution
In this step in front of me.

I have no metric measures
To plumb this stormy ocean,
And if I tried to name the weather,
It would match my emotion.

Life is not a picnic,
No matter what some may say
It picks you up and throws you
Bound to dent, nick, and fray.

The bright sun’s rays
Are dappled as they strike
The manicured greensward.
He, tall, lithe, teeth all aglow
In cream slacks and pastel blouson,
She, fair and fairylike in acres of shimmering gauze,
Alight from the auto
At the site of their ‘manger al fresco’
Let us call them Justin and Jocelyn.
The basket is heavy
No matter.
He lifts it clear to carry
She gasps, he grins.
In minutes the scene is set
The rug, the plates, the glasses
The pate, the cold chicken,
The fruit….the wine.
He deflowers a bottle of Moselle,
Wishing it were her.
Guessing as much she blushes.
Ants retreat to nests
Wasps attack alternate targets
Flies zoom elsewhere to feed.
And all the while the sun
The golden sun continues to dapple.


The rain is not quite horizontal
As Joe and Judy
Run from the bus stop
To the stony beach.
Not quite horizontal
But driven off the sea it tastes salty.
He, ordinary, average, in a dampening grey mackintosh.
She, hair bleached in a sister’s frock and jacket
Holding hands,
And hold each a sandwich
Cellophane wrapped.
Squatting against the seawall
They eat.
Wet eyes flash bright signals.
Joe has a small thermos
Its vegetable soup,
And somehow a hardboiled egg appears,
To share.
The rain continues its attack.

For once, I'm at a loss for words
I can't write eloquence into our anniversary yesterday
Because it was magical in and of itself
You planned me a quiet picnic in the woods, just you and me
Cooking hot dogs on a charcoal grill we didn't know how to use
And eating chicken salad
Going kayaking was a dream, paddling along
On a quiet tributary to a bigger lake, we went back into the woods
We sat in our little floating craft and talked about first kisses and magic
We wondered at how simple acts could have led us apart and how happy we are together
I noticed the calmness of the water and the intricacies of the ripples when I indulged my paddle into the stream
We were out for an hour, just paddling along
Talking, living, laughing, loving together.
Just being together
We eventually made our way back in, an hour car ride away from home
Talking some more, laughing together, enjoying the company
We went back to my place and ate dinner with my family
Shrimp Scampi with salad and bread
Then roasted marshmallows and laughed when they became torches
Nothing is better than marshmallows with the people you love
After that we set up my hammock and just swung there and watched the sun slip below the horizon
Taking in the scenery, we didn't need to talk, because there was nothing more that could have been said
It was magical until my little brother came over to us and asked why we weren't talking and called us boring
But he doesn't understand, not quite yet
Not until he is sitting on a hammock with a girl, and knows there isn't anything to say
It was a beautiful day, wonderful by itself

Time flies like a baby fruit fly to a banana
buzzing through a brand new day through the fractal lakes
cleansing my body in peppermint amethyst vibrations
as the gyrations of the water ripple and drip down my back and waist
tickling the skin into submission--
I'm on a love mission feeling the splish-splash nefelibata mind
within my glowing gold-hazel eyes as I realize my potential.
The world isn't simply my oyster
my voice can make a difference
if I wish and believe me I've kissed Aladdin's lamp
but my mind is filled with vagary so I plant the seeds
in my magic garden and watch them grow--
burst through the ground and glowing
some like emerald embers
and others like electric chalcopyrite
as my third-eye shines and pops calico corn
crackling in the back the ideas simmer on the grill
near the chilled ZuZu Juju honeydew wine
while the electric blue hip panther cat croons
away on her guitar in ancient star languages saeng
when we were all just haranguing through the ONE-light
all bright sun's right to shine a vine of fire rays
into our future past selves
now aligned with burning designs of moons, suns and AUMS.
The animal pixie band manipulates the sounds around us--
the cicadas sing a lotus chorus while the tiger-painted rabbits rapidly
strum rainbow hieroglyphs on their magic harps
while the jazz sax racoons all dressed in jasper suede jackets
and backwards newsboy caps
play a theta vibration so meditatively
we dance in digambara dream catcher trance
of enhanced meraki enchanted atoms
and cells boiling in passionate blood.

After all the eating and dancing we play in the clay mud
recreating our animal forms and budding faces blooming
and swooning as our winged auras sling us
into the dusk sky
to sway and zoom in the rain.
later we enter Father Sky's cloud castle
for a peaceful night curled up by the azurite lightning fireplace
roasting marmalade maple marshmallows
with those rasta angel fellows token
on the diviner's sage sippin mugwort tea.
And as we third eye-gaze into and through each other
seeing our past and future time tubes
aligning into a sacred golden flower sphere,
we giggle like silly fox children
we've forgotten hours have left our pockets
cause to us it only seems like seconds have gone by...