#daytime
Tcha Tcha!
Tcha Tcha Tcha!
A squirrel hears my calling.
Tcha ... Tcha!
I sit idly.
With every calling,
It leaps forward,
Carefully tracing its steps.
Tcha Tcha!
I extend my fingers,
while in my mind, I fear it might bite me.
Tcha!
It finally comes near me,
sniffs my extended finger.
As I try to touch it,
It leaps away from me.
Tcha Tcha!
The desperate calling now
makes it stop few steps away.
It turns to stare at me.
Then leaps away further.
I keep calling, in hopes,
it'll come back.
Tcha Tcha!
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 7:23 AM UTC
the day begins early
seeping into your bones
closed eyes become aware
dreamtime has ended.
Feb 26
Feb 26, 2026 at 6:40 AM UTC
When the morning sings through the shades of my window,
A cascade of soft illumination dances around like a few of the flowers,
When the morning sings, I hear the birds of song,
Dancing in the wind, a wilt of the rose,
When the morning sings, it’s a scientist to wake up from our dreams,
When the morning sings
Jan 24
Jan 24, 2026 at 4:23 PM UTC
delphinium migrant blue,
and into night
we follow,
toward the residue
of morning,
where there's no time
limit to grief.
you wake with
electric intervals,
something's wrong
with yesterday,
in your head are
galaxies like grains of salt,
and they fill up the sky.
these red metallic balloons,
that come to you
when you are ripped open,
whether it’s by pain
and heartache
or you’re falling in love,
these you can’t close
yourself off to.
but what you actually want
is to bypass them,
and try to reach that
dawn serenade,
which is floating
above them,
as if golden electric ribbons
which don’t
demand repayment.
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 12:39 PM UTC
Winter air dresses
with foresight of wrapped up folk.
Frigid layers coat.
Dec 19, 2024
Dec 19, 2024 at 4:53 PM UTC
Warm golden glimmers
spotlight squirrels and their hoards -
unreal renderings.
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 12:19 PM UTC
A freshly blown breeze
creeping amidst the shivers.
My hands are burning.
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 9:36 AM UTC
Glimpses of lustre
exposed from a clouded robe.
Held by morning glow.
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 2:17 AM UTC
mucus-like slugs, thrown to the wayside
ejected, from a chamber waist-high
a prideful ******
once full of lust
now listing for the coming
daytime
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 8:41 PM UTC
Lately, it has been difficult to share our time together. At times, it even feels as if the universe is holding a grudge against us. Either you are asleep and I am awake, the daytime calls for us to be in a different place, or it is just not that calendar day. Whatever the case may be, the day will come. We will have our solar eclipse, and the World will discover the beauty of our love.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
loved many women
in my daytime life,
still, not enough,
to satisfy my needs.
that is why god created
the inhabitants of a
priest-cohen holy dark,
so we can be alone
when we
fill out the list
that
I deny exists.
keeping it safe,
so only they
can see me,
& vice versa,
so apropos,
nobody else can.
Romance is great,
when it is
wordless and silent,
no interrupt-us
when writing many
imaginary imagery,
only love poems
with both
ambidextrous hands
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 7:30 AM UTC
you bring joy in this earthly hour of time
spreading love and light.
kindness that you pour out of your soul.
making and creating the longing taste of hope and faith.
you are as beautiful as a flower bees.
a sun and a star that combines in day and night
nourishing to flourish the spirit of one's maze body.
eternal of it's youth to color a smile in your eyes.
and paying to shine
and as bright as the rainbow sky.
Apr 20, 2020
Apr 20, 2020 at 12:00 AM UTC
One by one the lights go off,
Slowly burning to black,
The kitchen stove, red with heat,
Stills to a cool whisper,
Before the daylight finishes,
It charms us one last time,
Oranges and plums twist into midnight,
The birds stop chirping,
Their chatter sways to silence as the moon takes its place,
Kids close their eyes,
Leaving another day’s mysteries unlocked,
Phones on top of couches quit buzzing,
Cars’ beaming headlights become fewer,
And fewer
Life becomes a flickering candle
Just blown out
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 12:25 AM UTC
In the bottom of the river
There is my shadow
Clear as day
The water crystal
How God creates
The best art.
Where I am just a mortal
Artist.
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 7:29 PM UTC
Suttle mark upon the window
Landscape dazed
The arrival of spring
Sunlight swept to cause the haze
Among the scholarship
It is me
Aspiration to days of kinship
Troubles face this lack of breeze
The fear of the short term wait
Rummy beyond my fragile day
A mind that has always gone away
Depictions of these irrational sways
In the distance
I watch the branches
The flutter of their fragile lances
Visions obtained with prying glances
Ideas flooding the mind
Is this a hint?
A new glory I must find
Leave the words in my print
Writers block now released
Joy from this new found breeze
An idea offered by my disease
The phenomenon is complete
I am pleased
May 14, 2019
May 14, 2019 at 9:00 PM UTC
Saw you first time,
In the campus of mine,
For love is crowned with the prime,
U stole my heart in daytime..
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 3:46 AM UTC
and turned off the lights in the daytime
turned off the light and it was snowing outside
it is snowing outside today
and I'm still still waiting
30.11.18
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC
Two pigeons
Resting lip of ATM
Nature's kind tellers.
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 10:28 AM UTC
what, already
that aroma;
not a single spoon
of sugar:
the better
the awakening;
my coffee grinning,
shaking me
there's no way
to backtrack;
I'm sipping from b-cups,
kicking into gear...
flash forward;
(flesh in the background)
absentmindedly
chasing destination
instead of destiny,
always in a hurry
coffee drops
now drying up
disheveled,
the only ones
still keeping
memory of lips
retreating
like the waves
caressing shores
goodbye
long gone is
the reflection
undulating eyes
thoughts are perched
on mornings:
the old ones,
the upcoming...
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
It was suddenly twenty-eight minutes
after three in the morning,
and I found myself in your bedroom.
Your sheets were cheap and creased,
your quilt was older than you,
and your pillow cases didn't match.
There were three pillows, and you had all of them.
I didn't mind.
Your breathing was the steadiest thing in your life right now,
and your back rose and fell
as regularly as your hopes did in the daytime.
There was nothing on your back -
whatever was there
an indefinite number of hours previously
had joined the convention of disorganized stress on the floor
that slept a mere seven and a half inches from us.
The mattress was as warm as we were,
and the whole of it held tightly to the scratched hardwood floor
that was probably still owned by those that lived here before you.
There was an appalling lack
of glow-in-the-dark stars
on your dull, cracked ceiling.
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 2:20 PM UTC
My grandpa, he got cancer from smoking
cigarettes. I set fire to the ends of bones, too.
The only male energy in my whole life,
and the best example of what I shouldn't do.
Emotionally abused my family,
no regrets, no subtle nod, or attempt at truth.
We set aside the split hairs in sunlight,
watched them fade while listening to the empty tune
of two hearts too lost and misunderstood.
One perfect look at conviction displaced and strewn.
I'd like to think I'm resistant to death's call,
but I'm well aware how the earth hurts,
how my home land endures political turf war.
Queer cannot be an exclusive concept.
Would you like to come lie beside me on my floor?
Drift between feelings, count specks on the ceiling?
I can't seem to find purpose in living, but I love,
and love life just enough. Do you love enough to meet nighttime
and sleep til the morning? Press your forehead to mine,
tell me of your scrapes and how many times.
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 5:23 PM UTC
as the daylight breaks through
the stained-glass window and
rests upon your sleeping face
like a blanket
i like to look at you this way
when dream world is still open for you,
your day hasn't yet started and you're
untouched by the rest of the world.
just dreaming.
i feel like this is perfection.
your soft hair, your eyelashes,
the gentle rise and fall of your chest,
those lips that are (somehow) even more
perfect than they were the night before.
the lips are my favorite.
i think about kissing you, tasting you,
folding myself into your tattoos,
lifting you gently back into your body
so I can once again be with you
but I linger in this moment a little
longer. savor it a little more. allowing
you more time in the mystical purity
of your dreams. allowing myself to bask
in this budding garden a little more.
and I hope that in your dreams you are a king.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 6:02 AM UTC
Oh how cruel the day is.
Slant rays invade my space
because the curtained covered
windows can only bend them
not completely conceal
the light that I feel on my skin.
Partially piercing my eyelids
daylight becomes a strange shade
Of red, orange, and annoyed.
Warmth trumps cool sheets.
Sunny Sunday sounds sneak in
with the interrupting day.
I wish it all would go away.
Bring back the melatonin moments.
Bring back the colors of the night
dark, quiet, and tranquil as death
with my memories still intact.
But if I brought the evening back
I would want to stay awake
cause I love that silent night
and hate that ******* sunlit day.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 9:13 AM UTC
I woke up one day and breathed in your cologne
even though only one side of the bed was warm
even though only one side of the bed left
the shadows of dreams and fingerprints of nightmares.
And later, when my bed is made and both sides are cold and pressed,
I heard your laugh when I pushed my
hair behind my ear, distant.
close.
Soft, even though my windows are locked and frozen shut.
Evident, even though my breakfast
is a black cup of coffee
and humming to myself.
But I put my hair back in front of my ears and go to work.
Where I taste your words
with breaths in and out.
I turn them over, sweet, truthful,
unlike my black coffee that I use
to drown out, to block out,
to
close
out
what is true on my tongue,
between my teeth and sitting on my lips,
ever whispering without sound.
And I can't stop breaking apart your
words in my mouth
so I can taste each
syllable.
But they are dull, old tastes that I beg to stay fresh,
but you are not here.
And I cannot
swallow
your
perfect
words.
They tease and tickle my throat.
sweet.
But unreachable, no matter
how many times I try to unravel
the truths on my tongue.
By the end of the day, on my couch-I am tired from your laugh
between the strands of my hair,
but an unreachable shadow;
and I am tired from your words
that are sugary and ****
and distant because I put them
in my mouth months ago.
And even though I want to close my eyes,
I do not.
Because your face on the pillow next to me
taunts me behind my eyelids
and your fingers on my belly
are just beyond reach when I lay down
and your breath in my ear
is too cold on my ear.
And if I let it ,your memory will
never let me live.
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 2:09 PM UTC