Her lubricious bikini has full of criss- crossing fancy strings,
the central idea indeed, seems to be not concealing any skin.
when you pull at any one,
the whole becomes undone,
can you blame if the focus of the action shifts to other things?

ironically,
is to learn what life is about,
if that message is negative
I am all the more ready for that.

I need at times to be hit in the head
that is why I keep twenty dollar bills
in my drawer , for the times

I might need the positive,
I write poetry and prose, to grow,
So, in this case I am

only looking for non-plusses
negative critiques, thoughtless
scribes, I know many here

who have shown me,
their purpose, pick my
brain, fill my inbox with

suggestions, take my breath
away with my lapses pointed
out in black and white

and don't stop no matter
what I say

and to the majority of the poets
here, ignore this, please, you
know who YOU are!!

Life is killing me softly and slow
to lay down my head on her breast-
and to suckle on her milk till death.

So, you wanna be a poet;
Well, tell the truth.

Dawn
light just seeping
through slatted blinds
robins begin
their morning song
at full-blast volume
I am awake, listening

hoping you made it
through the wilderness
and are sitting on the deck
with your morning coffee
listening to robins too
or loons calling on the lake
watching the sun rise

you said you wanted
to be lying naked
next to the woman
you love
when you're ninety
I hope to be the one
in your arms

perhaps completely deaf
to the robin's cacophony
and a little
worse for wear
but still loving
each other
just the same.

capitals irk me.
parentheses are comfortable, like my love embraces me, like i slide letters into envelopes, or don't, rather.
uneven lines and fragmented line endings feel more accurate,
real, everything that is not posed or
staged, everything that keeps you
hanging on to the last syllabic
exhale.