Sunday, July 19, 2009

Let me rub your feet

Soon I will wake
to see the grace of
God beside me
in her purest form.
She will smile,
her words will kiss me,
and her hands might
even bless my soul.
The great crusade
into her pendant complete,
able to finally rest
on the deep blue
within greene,
her heart cries no more
for where she wishes
to be-
and smiles for where
she is.

May we always live
in the beautiful warmth
of our roof-top paradise.

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Good Morning My Love

Her hair could bring
the sun to its' knees.
Even the most violent
wind would pause
and ask permission
before passing through.
Still she gave the hands
of an ordinary man
full access beyond
her mortal bounds
for she loved him so,
as he did her.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Lilly and Jesse

There is a crying
loud and continuous
but only tears of joy
in response.

There are beaches,
wonders, flights,
and glass floors
in a notebook.

Breathe...

Can you smell
Lily of the Valley
beneath the ground
dreams run on?

Be strong in the face
of your older self to
defend what you know
will never betray you.

Call your poet
to come rescue you
when you are trapped
in the Heights.

That little crying
at first so distant-
gets closer to my ear
with every sunset.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

The flour, the shower, and the sticky stuff

There is a new show
that you won't find
on any network
or satellite.
It is by far
the greatest love story
ever to be written.
If you were lucky enough
to have followed it
you would be sitting
on the edge of your seat,
unable to pull yourself away
for even the shortest time.
The flour creates the mess
that litters the floor-
inciting laughter,
enticing kisses
and non kisses.
The shower rains
down the love
in a passion so hot
it burns the steam.
But the sticky stuff,
left outside until the breaks,
until she says "Ok",
would keep you glued
to the screen,
pulling for us to make it.

My Best Friend

I have always been suspicious
of fruit without seeds,
they seem empty to me-
lacking any backbone
or real substance.
Come to think of it
I never trusted any fruit
of any kind, shape, color-
I trashed them all
before they ripened.
Now I think the fear
for worms, mold, or
anything unforeseen
rotting the sweetness
drove me away.
Then again maybe not.
Maybe I knew all along
that no matter how long
I waited, hoped, worked,
they would always die.
The thing I don't get
is that now there is a bush
full of blueberries
that grows sweeter by
every drop of sun.

How I wish to eat
that fruit every day
until I eat no more.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

The Tenth.

I'm not good at math
but I know what 2+1 equals.
I can see the equation
all the multiplication
the variables
the subtractions
and divisions-
no matter which way
you write it
the answer is always 2.

You know that too.
You can see it
just as easily as I can
from where you are.
In fact it was you all along
who led me to believe
in things not always being
as they appear to be.

That bees can kiss you,
blueberries must breathe,
drying roses wilt hearts,
of going beyond the roof,
how soft the bull can be,
I have you to thank
for these wonderful tips
on walking in a forest.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

You on a call?

I know the perfect blue
couch to lay you on
when you are sick.
The arms are not huge
but they hold you tight
and keep you warm.

I can see you smile
wrapped in the softness
two sticks created.
Everything you need
is there beneath you
without expiration.

Maybe we both need
more time off
on the edge of the bed.
We can calm each other
till we're breathless
with numb lips.

Show me black things
that drive me wild
like a river flooded.
Let the current
push beyond doubt
to a farm of hope.

We'll reap a harvest
so rich and full
it spills over.
Just ride with me
on the dream
of the blue couch.