Each day is a gallery of empty canvases
Every new face is an opportunity
You will walk past many of them
Leaving them blank and untouched
a passing possibility
You will approach some, and paint a stroke or two
or a few or some more and
It may not be your best creation
but on some you will create beautiful masterpieces
For the most part, though, you will pass them by
but, why?
You are a canvas, too.
You are a possibility.

her warm eyes of
wonder and kind skin
kindle
a crackling aortic inferno
further fed
by a voice that feels
like water going down
but like a fireman
from Fahrenheit 451
sets my words aflame
with kerosine kisses
I can't and
I won't try
to ever tell you
what this is exactly
because we never really know
where we're growing
but this is different
this is painless
and it tastes like
nothing my tongue
has ever known
and it takes me to places
I've never been

I hadn't realized
just how parched I was
until she filled up my cup
as she poured out her heart
and I drank it down

No more fighting ghosts in the night,

No more judging my motives, stupid or right.

Time to relish the sun, shine in the moon, shiver in starlight,

Wish i could fly on a broom.

Wrapped up in Autumn i kiss winter hello.

Steep myself just deep enough that i eat bubbles as i go.

Then merge completely into darkness, and make art with the union of bitter and sweetness.

Drink deep my love,
         My cup is brimming,
and my love is abundant and ever flowing,
    My life a swift river of shifting choices,
All of them blessings, like contented sleep noises,
ever breaking mornings.

The talk
that gets us nowhere
except the joy of hearing your own voice speak.
The stifling circles of meaningless rambling
justifying the normality of strange and stuttering minds.
Please hear and see me.
I am guilty of this.
But the silence punctuated by the most simple and profound truth.
Speak that

and no other words.