Powdered dust
beneath our feet,
brown grass, and
dry air is the atmosphere.
Nothing grows in this
environment, still we
have excellent hydroponics
and distill water from excellent
sand traps for condensation.
The only life here, this is
still home, heart of the world.
We wait for the ships to return,
thrusters firing.
Most will leave.
I will stay.

Imagine your self( no pressures)
as you're immersed in
bubbly.
Incense tickles your
nostrils.
You are open, if you desire.
Your warmth  invites and
beckons us to foreplay because
we shall be baptized
in raw, wet lust
without the morning shame
after. Let us be the animals
we are.
Your choice. And I will not
lie. You may be disappointed.
Will you invite me?
We can always cuddle after
or if you prefer, instead.

Wedding day.
My fiancé
flew away.

Coats of paint well applied
externally and color coordinated.
The trim contrasted properly
with no smearing.
An individual work which does not
clash with the neighbors, yet
is an open invitation.
An open house built upon good
foundation and sturdy structure
which is a signature to the craftsmen
who built it and dressed it.

The new year purge
is here again.
"What's that, you want
to drive away?"
"The lake is blue
and tempting."
Fine Lake Wilson.
"Ready to hang glide,
Beautiful?"

A knock on the door?
A hypnogogic state?
A blank porch.
A ghost or one of three?
A past, present, future.
A block of time.
A late night mystery.
A bedtime prayer.
A communion with the Eternal.
A Gate of God.