If you're my girl
You'll know
Fighting for my attention was the expectation but I brought the actual reality
They still owe me a check
But they gave some to Beck
And I'm cool with that
The rain is just here because I told it to be
Just for you
No gimmicks, just intentions with a little background
I do love a good play though
When I'm not feeling a movie
I'd rather watch a more downed to earth one
That is more artistic than Shakespeare's way with words
Even he had a difficult time explaining the beauty of plays
Hell if I can, he was the pioneer
I'm just trying to enjoy this whole idea now
But you know what I'm all about

you scoff as he rubs wings into my shoulders
and life into my mouth
i am free with him
he has cupped me in his hands like a butterfly
let me go so many times
but i come back
(because i was always his in the first place)

i wonder why you want to be tied around his wrist like a balloon
don't you have feelings, too
perhaps children cry when they let go of the string
up
up
into the sky
(too selfish to understand that you would be happy if you could just fly)

There is a stillness
that lies beyond the tallest trees;
beyond the quiet nesting
of daylight summer birds

Halfheartedly
I am reluctant
to close my weary eyes,
to miss this beautiful cool
refreshing bliss
of serenity once more
bound in endless flow

How contemptuous a nightly lull
that breaks the sun's disquietness
of the day,
renders day into night,
and twilight shadows
that playfully scorn
our daytime senses

We are all rocked in the cradle of mother night
she sings
her veiled and peaceful
insightful sound
I suckle
like so many others
on her breast of cool refreshing peace
I absorb her calming black-night-lactose
that gently whispers to sleep
the energetic day child
within us all
As cool water consumes fire
As night consumes the heated day

I think beyond
the stars
that now shine
the past starry nights
I think about trillions upon trillions
of stars overwhelmed
by the black empty
outer limits
that encircle and distantly
embrace them

I think about
the greater part
of the universe,
making ours and all other
daylight galaxies appear
but like so much dull
insignificant fluorescent glow
And because how mind boggling,
awesome and vast
is the eternal cosmic night sky

And how belligerent to think
all galaxies' day-suns
like our Sun,
being the all powerful
when they are but only
minuscule stars winking and
swimming passively
in the greater awesome devouring blackness

LOOK NOW!...a comet
streaks across the heavens
like a rapid musicians
hypnotic metronome
then stops
then fades away
while the rest of the heavens
sing along
in blinking symphony  

Influenced by my most
inner ease
my total being joins
this starry rhythm
I sway like a calm breezy lull
and half shuffle
my feet
over the midnight countryside
of stillness...
... ever sooooo...gently

Slowly and soft
Playing, laughing, experimenting
Relaxed and happy
Then passionately and long
Cheeks, lips, jaw, neck, and lips again
Deep and *******
Forehead to the belly button
Behind the neck to bump down

Rubbing nose and cheeks
Pressing lips
Fondling ******* and ****
Cuddling with ears
Embracing eyes, looking shy
Spices of variety
Bare skin
A touch of sensation
Against a wall, on the ground
Or in my hands, over me, into each other
Tightly locked, so soothing
A spider web
Searching hands, unexplored regions
Wet and moist
Taking a break
Doing it all over again
and again
and again
Until
the morning rushes upon us

Snow is falling outside my window
Snowflake by snowflake
I'm sitting in my room,
Looking out
Wishing I too was a snowflake
Falling and quickly melting away.
I imagine that maybe that is what love feels like
falling, melting, and then its gone.
It's short lived, but beautiful
While it lasts.

the girl in the white dress dances
her hair swings to the music
her eyes are shut
shes looking at the roof as if shes outside
the sway of her body is calm, relaxed
like shes dreaming
like shes floating
shes carefree
the song changes
her knees collapse
she looks to the floor
puts her hands on the ground
pushing herself up and walks to the bar

I mailed you a letter because you said
the art of writing is dead but I know
how to twist words into sculptures still small
enough to fit in the post box. I hope
you read what I wrote. I opened my heart
and sent you a poem. Someday when you’re old
you will show your grand kids the written art
some hopeless romantic girl undersold,
prefaced with ‘it isn't anything great but
maybe it will lead you to understand.’
I never claimed to be the best but my
head is full of cosmos and volcanoes
begging to explode black holes on paper as
relics pressed between pages like a dried rose.