Our words
Fly
Across
A reward
Still shy
Of a toss

Hesitant
Debonair
I call for
A moment
To partner
Oh savior

Like gold
That flows
Inside
And bold
I borrow
Your bedside

Love
Marks
My space
Like a glove
I embark
In your grace

I inhale
Your scent
Your passion
Your trail
Your talent
Your vision

I dream
A future
Of love
Like a stream
I venture
Above


April 19, 2012
G.

In my youth,
They called it an Idiot Box,
But at six and eleven,
The real news arrived.
Africa, Vietnam,
Assassinations;
Mr. Ed and Mr. Sullivan shared our dessert.
The IB gave bedlam meaning.
Now,
We're patients in the asylum,
Spotting wardrobe malfunctions,
Commenting on roses,
Losing airwave evangelists
For commandments
Flung from the Tower of Babel.

a cool crisp airwave
deep exhale in the moonlight
darkness overtakes

Professedly Plagues Psyche

I do not watch, while
     feigning to sip ale,
nor listen to Wail
ling Jennings poor
     imitation by prophetic
     local aborigines scent
     ting ancestor trail,
while plucking their

     Sing song ukulele
national anthem (tip towing
     thru the dale
lie la of hybrid tulips)
     hearty and hale
     Climatological headlines,
     more like a puffed up
     magical dragon exhale

ling nothing boot hot air,
     comprising a renown folk song,
     and/or futuristic tall tale
that usually pre
     dominate every airwave scale
ling the gamut of
     every frequency 24/7, rail
ling dire warnings,

     and no need prevails,
     particularly for those
     refusing to evacuate,
     and become sitting targets
     like quail caught
     in the cross hair
     for me to know
     onset of biblical pro

     portioned sized debacles
     (since joblessness thy status,
     cuz social security disability received),
     but more pertinently
     dire forecasts rarely manifest
     into monster mashing maelstroms
case in point
     being this predicted

     "three sisters of all hurricanes"
     Florence, Light
     Ning, and Gale,
found this storm chaser
     disappointed, cuz monstrous
     banshee's utter deplorable show
ranked as utter dud at least
     (in my book), they did fail

to wreak havoc
     falling far short
     to flatten every tree,
which limb mit
     to flash flooding
minor inconvenience
     forced every to sail
guy did by those freed from jail.

Heron entombed within b44 man cave
at Highland Manor Apartments sitting
in catbird seat after shower and shave
attuned to silence permeating airwave
wondering what comprises silence music

to these keenly attuned ears as agave
tastes sweet on tongue curious just now
if those hard of hearing or deaf crave
distinct absence, albeit low toned hum,
sans various appliances buzzing this knave,

who relishes solitude and absolute quiet
though this facility, most appeal aye rave
constitutes very minimal cost courtesy
rental assistance, which provides us to save,
(that plural includes missus) feels a slave

hidebound to maintain tidiness, lest we
find ourselves homeless prospect I stave
off (just barely), analogous keeping wild
animal at bay, though grim prospect suave,
and debonair "FAKE" facade I don trumpet

merely self employed to distract grim fate,
which loomed large months few months gone
necessitated third automotive, repair spate
chilly linkedin (racking ma pinion), asper our
2009 Hyundai Sonata (sedan) original parts

(battery included) amazingly last years behave
ving admirably despite slew of upkeep sending
checking account into intensive care, a grave
situation kickstarting precarious mental health
(amazing how being penniless - dirt poor) brave

driver cannot withstand blistering maintenance
costs sustaining car, more money versus engrave
van tombstone, and more painful experiencing
a negative checking account balance, thus fave

veering disliking existential hardship, where entrenched
panic attacks (despite pharmaceutical magic) death gave
enticing option, cuz quotidian struggle undermines
affinity to enjoy life, liberty, blah blah to thrave.