ear to the wind,
my ancestors scream
for me….
they scream,
at me.
I am a stranger
and
they
cannot see
me.

lost
in a rainbow
of greed,
purpose thwarted
…nay,
-aborted,
by saccharine hope
for acceptance
&
love.

soft hands,
soft heart,
&
a hard cock –
a SNAG
without a soul.

there are many paths to ruination
but only
one
single
trail
leads
to salvation.

close your eyes,
and breathe….

do you see it?

then Go,
and don’t look…

back.

somewhere
between
you
and
truth,
you will find
the remainder
of your
courage.

tread lightly:
slip into the abyss.

tread not,
and you can sit,
here with me,
watching and
waiting.

the tantalizing
brush,
of,
a warm
summer’s breeze:
the taste of honey
gossamer’d
twixt
the
lush welcome
of your
rose painted
petals
beckon
me closer.

the hint
of youth’s glory,
snuggled
safely
in your
trembling smile…

i try
to
remember
that moment
with you,

but
i only dreamt it.

swing
&
leap (backwards),
with me.

watch me
&
sing
with me.

i want
to play with you.

i want to kick,
you.

come play
with me,
let’s dance-
for real.

the gentle
rumble of
fireworks
roll
in the distance;

a firefly
rises right
before your eyes; &

sweaty nights
sink
into
sticky
afternoons,

and the cicadas…
they sing,
so sweet.

so sweet.

though frost still
haunts magnolia
perfumed air,
summer’s bounty
awaits
you,

&
me too.

feet
gently crush
failed winter blossoms as
we drunkenly inhale the sugary
sweetness of flowers
unfurling under
a ripe and full moon.

it is coming.

parrots chatter throughout the night

it is coming.

dreams dance under itchy fingers

it is coming

a balmy breeze stalks her raven hair

it is coming

promises lost are found
again
and,
with a kiss,
vows to life,
love,
and the Universe are
renewed.

She is coming
for you.

maybe it will rain
up
to tickle the bottom of
a maple leaf.

maybe my fear
will be swallowed by love.

maybe you are
as amazing
as you
think
you
are.

and maybe
I’m
just waiting
for
you to shine,

again.

maybe you already are.

an echo remains
of promises made;
vibrating inside
my ribs.
although

missed opportunities
grow fecund in
a rotting mass of doubt
and failure-
fertilizer
for the gifts to come.

pen to pad
heart to the sky
I do believe
its time for us to fly.

whirling
wisps
of me
wander
in between
moving bits of infinity.

so many places
and
so many faces
to be,
no room
to be
free.

so I close
my
eyes
and look
for you.

and cry,
because you will never
see
me
too.