She breaks the law instead of hearts
Because she wants to be the brick
Not the window pane.
She loves the wind in her hair
Because it makes her feel
Like she's flying.
She relishes the highways
Because they quench her
Insatiable wanderlust.
She loves you
Because you take her breath away
With a single look.

When asked what I do for a living
I say that I am a poet
When asked how I make a living
I say that I don't, don't you know it

It has nothing to do with the pay
But more about all the pleasure
In a nut shell all I can say
Is that right there is beyond any measure

Daughter of a rocket scientist 
son of a nuclear engineer
and they begat a son

a boy
too starry-eyed to question the stars—
the way they hang in space, the fusion
that keeps them burning brightly,
or how to launch an object past them—
more concerned with the constellations
of perfect freckles found on his beloved's shoulders

a boy 
too enthralled with Existence
and describing it in artful words
to contemplate its composition
or to ponder Existence's place
on Other Worlds

a boy 
enraptured with the Changing of the Seasons—
photosynthesis and 
chloroplasts and 
planetary tilt?
Irrelevant

a boy 
who'd rather write of Love
than consider its chemical makeup
or wonder how or why it is
who'd prefer to write of leaves
dancing spirals in the breeze 
than aerodynamics and 
air resistance and
gravitational pull

a boy 
who sometimes stops 
and only ponders Science
concerning his Genetics
and wonders where it all was lost.

Follow streams of Thought
to discover
a reservoir
of Inspiration...

My heart,
a mansion made of straw:
Complex and
beautiful
but lit ablaze
by a single spark.
Intricate and
intimate
but bound to
collapse.
Spacious and
accommodating
but thin-walled,
colder in the nights.
Furnished and
ready for use
but over-staged,
exaggerated potential.

Do me a favor:
tear down the walls
burn it all, scatter ashes
that I may be an empty lot
to be renovated by an Architect.

A settled man with the heart of a vagabond
belonging to an artful brain and clumsy hands,
to eloquent thoughts and a stuttering mouth,
to an overarching desire to fly and touch the clouds
and an overwhelming fear of falling to the ground.