"P" poem

pointless, probably...
this penning pen

possibly probing
peculiar problems

plentiful palettes
of predictable poems

a plethora of peacock
perceptions...

plighting the pottage
of people's perplexities

peering past
personal prisons

perhaps my personality
probes perversely...

how petty

Forget-me-not

you put me in a box standing up
and filled me in with mortar

you worked fervently in slathering
the mud upon my body...

as if time would escape you
or maybe me

I always told you
don't hold on to that you will never keep...

and my advice you wouldn't grasp

you were always good at
ridding yourself of needs
to fill yourself in with wants

my face has yet to be spackled

Do you leave it bare for a purpose?

perhaps when it's faded...
you can truly remember me

perhaps when I am gone...
you will know what I was

Tin Man

Ushered, fateful fusion

he asks me if I'm an angel
that my secret would be safe with him

I tell him that I am as human as he
though not sure how human are we

he wears my skin
and I can read its every word

I have his feet
he has my hands...
we have the one amidst the sands

the one who struck the match
and kindled the fire
in our hearts once again


we drowned in each other's sweat
the night our souls
consumed our bodies

we were fulfilled in finding
the other's pleasure

and our impatient dance
was perfect in all its needs


the numbers halted on the nightstand...

the stars paused their pace to watch...

overcame by our draws
we laughed in disbelief...  and deliverance

absolute contentment in our completion
we have found

Feed me!

In the kitchen I won't be a bitchin'

eating meal after lusty meal
French silk pie, how I love the feel

pudding to pop and tofu terrific
darling I'm a ho for escargot

fruitiness of tart berries,
banana fairies,
and bouncing cherries

all plucked from the garden's loins

and I sing my ode to the doughnut gold
hail the holy fried confection!
'tis a miracle beyond perfection

glaze me in caramel,
then lay me parallel
to the pastries I must bid farewell, gulp

hey it's sugar on my upper lip
not white powder for a super trip

although, I say whoa to cocoa
and bow down in its presence
as a low and humble peasent

or more likely the ravenous beast
musceled and toned to say the least

still, I digress or even digest
in the pantry I am truly blessed

whether it be savory or sweet...
how I  love to eat!

Farewell my friends

new shoes trudging
through the muddy
driveway once
traveled everyday

they carry the walker
through saturated emotions

they carry the walker
past the spying felines

they carry the walker...

into the shed to
retrieve the ladder
to carry to the trees
to take down the glass

they carry the walker
through frozen memories

they carry the walker
past emerging hope

they carry the walker...

into the vehicle to
drive out of the farm
to follow the road
to follow the heart

Four days too long

eleven and two
this friday night
I swear I'll cut it
down in my flight

it's been way too
long without you
too long away from
your eyes of blue

pavement will melt
tires incenerate
for my heart can no
longer wait

I'll find you in the
house by the
triangular lake

if you fall asleep
by my kiss
you will wake

just keep that door
unlocked, let me
through that gate

southern wind
will blow this
tumbleweed to his fate

pavement will melt
wheels will be afire
nothing to keep us
from our perfect desire

that clock will only
be able to strike ten
before I am finally
in you arms again

pavement will melt...
it will melt...

The week since

unexpected, the walk
of a block by six blocks
and return

wrapped, double pants
flannel over white t
scarf, coat and hat

overdressed to walk
in slushy snow
and lingering dips of
melted ice

birds shook thawed
branches free of
white manna

Jay and Robin,
they shook impatiently

the air filled itself
with Sunday scents,
laundry, burning fireplaces,
wet earth and moist trees

the outdoors wrapped
itself with a blanket
and sat at its own window

waiting and watching
for incoming flakes

watching and hoping
for the chill to return once again

Forgotten divinity

13 hours in 23 years

20 days shy of seven,
from womb, over 8 years

this, the time of life
when halves realize their one

yearly yearning
for the one to walk through the door

annual aniticipation
for tears to fall no more

miner breathes at last
the other eye sees

dreamer endures the glass
learns from the trees

through battered bodies
life begins anew

through broken bones
I have finally found you

those terms, the omens,
connections made beyond this flesh

amazing smile was the spark
parched to reassure

January 25th completely confirmed
chill pill... will, the wings of our soul

from the soulmate and angel unaware,
halves gifted the chance to talk

three immensely overdue communions
to remember where we've been

13 hours in 23 years
discovering what is always within