Stripped

Lips more than kiss,
they shape sound,
into silhouettes,
of self.

Boldly revealing,
what you look like,
from the inside out.

Beautiful.

Every word risque'd,
laying you bare,
before me.

Sexy is spoken,
desirable declared,
passion pronounced.
























King without a Kingdom

Tugged-tight, these soft-white sheets emptily embrace,
monotonous miles of mattress, with a firm flatness of face.

This comforter in crisis, with no body to soothe to sleep,
lays lifelessly limp and lonesome, too wistful weary to weep.

Pristine piles of puffed-up pillows, panic-pulling seams,
in pressured-anticipation of once more supporting dreams.

Missing muse-mussing, those softly long silken tresses,
and nights of crush-crumpling, cushioning crazed caresses.
























Animal Reason

Animal
Reaching out knowingly
heart pounding too hard
shaking a glassine world
with each potent thump
in skin ravenous for skin
a salt flavored seasoning
for flesh fevered dreams
with a tenderness of lips
or the tickle of a tongue
distracting, not denying
the teeth waiting beneath
to close the trap tightly

Reason
Leaps ahead wildly
clamoring for a plan
a design, a rough outline
that glimmer of hope
in a little brittle belief
of never getting free
























Especially us

There is not one single day that goes by
Without shutting for a few moments
My wild quickly dart-dashing eyes
Just to see you here
Shining brightly
Laughing

Composing songs from unspoken promises
Into orchestrated madness for my muse
Obsession seems too weak of a word
Hope, far too faintheartedly feeble
Playing hopscotch from the ten
Then jumping back to one
Happily chagrined

Because they made a machine to do it
Doesn’t mean that I think it should
Delightful dreams of doing dishes
Blowing antibacterial bubbles
Dueling domestic dishtowels
To be speckless and spotless
In a game I can understand
Passionately determining
Another night’s winner
In an orgy of OCD

Washed and dried into timely tidy towers
Cabinets contain stair-stacked porcelain
Behind carefully closed doors
Cuddled-up all confidently
Knowing everything rests
In its proper place
Especially us





Momentary doorway revelation,
in exquisite indecision,
glancing backwards.

Contrasting shadows caressing,
where lumens are timid,
and longings stir.

As light streams through hair,
a crowning golden spirit,
her only adornment.

Standing half in and half out,
just a fragment of life,
a wealth of imagery.

Troubled eyes reflect regret,
as responsibility calls,
away from my arms.




Home

gentle lyrics fall upon our shoulders
unseen leaves on the night breeze
rustling quietly in the autumn chill
warm, in a swaying coat of arms
until everything else drifts away
into gentle rhythmic sensation
the deepest sigh can't caress
where you're leading me
surprisingly... home




Cinderella

although we danced for days
the clock struck midnight
and Cinderella escaped
this cage of arms

sewing the seeds of magic
into her shiny tinfoil pleats
leaving so very abruptly
she forgot her shape

what am I supposed to do
with the shadow she cast
the quiet absence of light
that left within her pocket

dancing with this shoe
is beneath my dignity
I’ll stop soon





Night

Sometimes at night
I open the window
to let the dark in

My curtains shudder
as a cold black ink
spills over the bed

With nothing to see
everything hidden
slowly seeps out





Day

shafts of sunlight pierce the blinds
to dance upon her sleeping skin
tickling blanket escaped toes
with the warm promise
of another day
in shoes




Sense of Scale

If you think that matters to me,
you don’t understand how I see.
I didn’t just slip on a banana peel,
to accidentally fall in love with you.

You were the one I was looking for,
before I woke up to what I wanted.
I love the way you think, you feel,
the shapes you take against me,
you've set my standard of beauty,
that no one else measures up to.





Magic Blue Plaid Flannel Pajamas

You're right, as always... but I am too.
Comfortable blue plaid flannel pajama pants,
aren't seductive... they're real and magical.

It isn't a quick night of poly-satin blends,
all smooth fibers, slick and so intentional,
another industrial artistry of textured imagery.

Magic is the comfort of day to day, every day,
it is sincere warmth unthinkingly pressed close,
unplanned cotton soft... unconsciously contiguous.

It is finger-tip tracing though the plaid confusion,
all of our crisscrossed lines of contoured chaos,
to discover which paths will lead us home.





Love

We’ll see… we’ll wait and see,
if all the things you imagine you want,
are what you’ll have with me.

We’ll know… when you’re here,
in the face of these flaws and failings,
it will become completely clear.

Only then... will I risk the dream,
that we're more than a passing fancy,
and the word is what you mean.




Time Traveler

I cannot help but leap,
too far into the future,
when we’re together,
clocks and calendars,
can’t keep up with us,
minutes, hours, days,
in the blink of an eye.

Forgive the way I am,
enveloped within this,
distant, so distracted,
quietly time traveling,
dreaming of the days,
when our good nights,
won’t mean goodbye.





Wait and See

Wait:
I want nothing more than to be there…
holding you in my arms, dancing,
swaying into your soft warmth,
soothing and smoothing,
my hard rough hands,
into velvet gloves.

My steps aren’t all suave and smooth,
these shoes of mine don’t yet shine,
and denim tatters aren’t tuxedos.
Let’s wait for that better me,
always a page away,
on the calendar.

See:
I won’t wait for a distant dream date,
put those insecurities on a plane,
stumble-step them to my door,
and we will see for ourselves,
what beauty we can make,
of our imperfection.




Man, Monster and Me

As I sweetly soothe you,
into soft satisfied sighs,
be careful of that gleam,
in my kind smiling eyes.

The bright glint is a hint,
that my tenderness lies,
next to images of taking,
you in silken ribbon ties,
caress-kiss possession,
and clawing your thighs.

The man is a caretaker,
one you can romanticize,
offering everything...
and meaning, all it implies.

The monster is hungry,
a greed-grasping surprise,
taking everything back,
in your gush-gasping cries.

Me? I am the mediator,
the crazy-man compromise,
staying as sane as I can,
while I compartmentalize.




Holding Pattern

holding you in my arms,
feeling you resting,
soft and warm against me,
this gentle motion,
in the rise and fall,
of your chest,
each breath,
moving me closer,
to meaningful.




Moving

suspiciously exceptional,
and simply infuriating,
the way she lives,
in a landscape,
of emotional,
complexity,
I cannot,
comprehend.
So frustrating
realizing,
whatever she is,
feeling today,
is the only place,
I wish to live.









Failing asleep

cuddle-upped, all beddy-bye,
cozy, contented and complete,
softly speaking our sweetness,
in mystical murmured musings,
so meaningful and meandering,
my soulful syllabus of sincerity,
going on... and on... and on...
trying to tell you all the things,
words can’t carry in daylight,
as you smile, sigh and shift,
folding the fluffy pillow over,
to cover your sleeping ears.




Sinner’s Shoeshine

Waiting to meet you
while nervously rubbing
the tops of my shoes
on the back of my calves
a quick sinner’s shoeshine
all spotlessly forward-facing
knowing everyone behind me
will still see the dirt.




Transplant

What if I wrote a poem for you,
that just said, “I love you.”

What if I did not dress it up,
in sheer lace, silks and satin,
or have it come in a bouquet,
of sweetly scented flowers?

What if I gave you my heart,
all raw, dripping-wet, messy,
pounding heavily in your hand?

Would you still find a place,
to keep it safe… inside you?




Shy and Awkward

Shy:
Sometimes,
I’ll let a silence,
build between us,
when I have nothing,
that needs to be said.

Awkward:
And then, I will color-in,
every beautiful blank,
space you create,
with the things,
I should not,
have said.

at least... we have a plan.




Calculating Pi

The circumference of this circle,
extends beyond comprehension,
variations of day-to-day details,
with every digit uncovered,
bringing us a little closer,
to our own infinity.



Everyday Question

Dispassionately,
from a distance,
it was just a day,
wake-up coffee,
showers, clothing…
a late breakfast,
of mild sausage,
and scrambled eggs,
cleaning, laundry,
an early dinner out,
a little self-reward,
for the clean dishes.

A full-bellied walk,
passing strangers,
on the sidewalks,
your hand in mine,
because we aren’t,
strangers anymore,
are we?

But I can't learn,
to live that way,
dispassionately,
from a distance,
and…
that simple day,
keeps intruding,
on quiet moments,
to accusingly ask,
“Why not every day?”

Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

William Shakespeare - Sonnet #18

bad poetry

shorts stories

balloon art

music

dance