Words like wasps clamor across
empty, luminant screens
Voices cast in Unicode
Feelings in Unicode screams
I close my eyes between the words
just so I can breathe
As the words start to sting
and my brain begins to swell
and the words echo
and the stings linger——
Happens ever time
Behind every letter there is a pulse
Of a stranger I will never see or know
I remind myself of the human heart
that beats behind the glow

Just because you might think me mental
Doesn't mean I want to be
An experiment.
I admit it, I thought Quiet Riot was cool.
What?

Gift of The Magi

Were I, Magi,
I might toss the runes,
Look across the sweeping sands
And marvel at the dunes.
Read the words of poets
Who have courted many moons,
Search the far horizon
For signs of passing.

This sense of great sadness
Moves through the midnight air.
I ask a lone stranger, but they
Just look at me and stare.
And if I stare right back at them,
Their stare becomes a glare.

So I look across the sweeping sands,
And marvel at the dunes,
Open up my velvet bag,
And again, I toss the runes.

I am your view from your porch
I am the sand in your toes  
I am the light from your torch
I am the bearer of your woes
I am your mirror on the lake  
I am your connection to the land
I  am the leaf stuck to your rake
I am the hammer in your hand
I am the loneliest, part of you—
Watching—
Waiting—

Where you might see—an owl
I see a lovely creature
With eyes the size of silver dollars
The most striking of their features
And how they survey and own the night
Always watching, never losing sight
Mirroring the moon's reflection, with their eyes.

Poetry is romance in the mind
A conduit, to the changing  faces of truth
A careful way—to convey  
Our exaltations—
of vision and beauty
Of duality and love
Of moment and memory
Of the heavens— above
To strive with hopeful humility  
Of shaping and elevating— words  
For connection, for visibility
For just a glimpse of that perfect light
That soft brief touch—of the divine

I suppose
I shall always be—a wanderer
Walking the halls of my own mind
Always unsure, of what I might find.

It is not the heart
That is complex
It is the burdens
We place up on it
It's not the reflection,
the mirror reflects
It's what our eyes
see beyond it
It is not the dreams—we've broken
It is the dreams—we've shared
It's not the words — we've spoken
It's the wisdom— we've heard.

Let these words I write,
be your cordial invite
Because I write these words for you
between heartbeats
Where our love, hopes and dreams meet.  

Let this be my eyes
Gazing into yours
Dancing to the rain drops
I'll hold you, till it all stops
If You'll hold me, while it pours

The Dance of the Hummingbird

The things a guy will do
to win your precious heart—
Whatever you ask of me,
I shall do my part.
If you ask me to dance,
I shall dance.
If it is attention that you crave,
For you— a loving glance.
Should you bid me to behave,
Hands to my sides!
Should you need me to play the knave,
In you, I shall confide.
Should you request a smile,
Ear to blushing ear,
Need I walk a lonely mile,
Just wait for me here, my dear.
For like the hummingbird,
Who lifts his tail feathers high,
Fluttering his colored wings
To catch your observant eye,
A difficult feat to beat,
I would carry the world
In all its grandeur,
And lay it at your feet.