You've just been gone a dozen days
And I've not been to sleep
The bed is just not comfortable
Without you there to keep

I've taken your old Harley shirt
And I keep it by my head
The scent of you still lingers there
Since I can't have you instead

I miss the presence of your spirit
And it's something I won't find
I lie here with my memories
Of your smile in my mind

The house it seems much smaller
In the time that you've been gone
It's just that you are missing
That's the only thing that's wrong

I know you're coming back to me
And until I see you once more
I'll be sleeping with your t-shirt here
Until you burst on through that door

I've taken your old Harley shirt
And I keep it by my head
The scent of you still lingers there
Since I can't have you instead

It's been six months since you went away
And you'll be home today
You don't know how my heart misses you
There's no words for me to say

I love you more than you could know
I see the sunshine in your eyes
But when you're gone, I'm not the same
I'm still me, but in disguise

You can have back your old Harley shirt
That I've slept with by my head
Because tonight you're home and here with me
And we can both now share our bed

blind from birth, she
could tell the difference
between the odor of chrysanthemums and tulips,
and remember her first whiff of both

she could identify
the scent of her brother
in a groping group
of sweaty brutes

she knew
her nose was her biographer
collecting memories, visions
her eyes could not

she studied biology
only to discover her compendium
of smells originated in a space infinitely
smaller than a fly's eye

a few molecules
devoted to identifying ham,
the rich smokey meat
of her first Easter

another clump to help her hold
the faint smell of perfume which lingered
in the room hours after
her mother passed

and who knew what atoms,
what cells, what curse of chemistry
forced her to recall, most of all, the sweet scent
of her newborn's hair,

the few seconds she held him,
after his heart stopped, and they took him
and placed him in a smooth, cold box, where sight,
sound and smell were locked forever

Clicking their way forward and back,
Flip-flopping into or hearts
If a girl can con money
Out of their fathers’ pockets,
who’s to say
They can’t sway politicians?
Their lips kiss pictures.

Pictures of cannabis leaves, yellow and smiling
They live until they die,
don’t live until they’re married
And if they don’t find what they want,
what else do they need
besides a crowd of fellow millennials
Caring, caring?

Caring about cannabis’ rights
and the right to carry a GBF,
their money, their frame
and, above all, pepper spray
These girls are the new
honest, hard-working man,
Their sweet scent is coming.

Sweet pea and Moonlight Path.
the top-selling fragrances at
Bath and Body Works
Their battle-cry is only
as loud as their looks
Daisy dukes and Katy Perry
whispering, “What the hell is she wearing?

She dons thin, rose-gold underwear
and she’s lazy yet keyed-up
in her own skin
Her lovers are all the same
but she blames all men.
Her wings are Pink,
they protect her from catcalls.

her smile
lingers caught
on restless breeze
autumn leaves scuttle
rejected dreams
once courted
hover

her hair
woven silk
dewdrops fine
in misted web
bring together
limbs long held
apart

they know
what rivers ran
streams of hope
rapid raw desire
hearts drowned
beating twin tunes
singing as
one

now just a scent
on yonder cloud
mocking cruel
as yet another
winter's
wan
morn
breaks

we frantic
for secretive places

a cave inlet, dim fire,
where we could claw
each other to pieces

like animals
love a distant scent,

all sweet conversation
make hunting spears
no word is meant

who preys whom
what brings us here

primitive echoes
assail our skins
habitual betrayers

ours, yours, bodies  
some lurking thirst

of centuries digs its
claws into flesh
like animals

love a distant scent...