You folded my name

into an origami of lovers,

a taste of invisible sun

on your tongue,

pouring affection

in tango of love,

sensuality in syllables,

butterfly wings

tingling my skin,

touching me

with deep

resonating tones,

curving down

my torso -

lilting, lingering,

speaking to my heart,

saturating my center,

releasing crest of want

as I silently read

my name

on your lips.

You swathed

my name

awakening

spirit of forever

and the world

stopped twirling.

      sleep            night                  he                against

I                the                 away,            stands                 me.

       sit              evening              she                  by

      won't              later                         I                 to

I               write                    because            want             tonight.

      will              afterwards                 you             poetry

Sleep

Read

Eat

Write

Draw

Tonight

Vespertine

new, or new to you

square one, stepped upon

gold bricked Ozzy road,

we goad each other

kind to kindred kind

to mold elusive

satisfaction’s glow

with words. one more show

of hands for muses

melodramatic

cue. memory fades

yet ever new comes

fancy’s fondled feat,

to seat itself quite

squarely for review.

joy-jumped or jittered

while poetic bug

digs deeper into

off-tossed matters flue.

smallest embers burn

beneath the old made

new, or new to you

Should I've said that?

Or no, I've should of said this?

God, I'm such a mess.

I can't even accept what I said is said,

and move on with it.

I really, really,  should've said that,

no no no no, I should've said that.

Damn I'm a mess.

Can't help it I guess.

It's how I roll,

making it up as I go.

But honestly, I really shouldn't have said that.

My hands hold the paintbrush of my world

     the hues and tinctures and tints

     riding the wind like steeds

     tucked pillow thoughts

     borrowed from the sun

     wet whispers and tanned skin

     swirls and curls of existence

     black wine sunsets on rims

     of crystal glasses

    blue-gray clouds of sorrow

    frozen shadows of winter coats

    stained glass shivers

    the curves of swans

    naked nothings of nature

    cradled in my hands.

Brown sludge slowly oozing,

a meandering path,

an empty agenda,

a rudderless vessel

with sails ripped by the wind,

starving, though you can feed,

a race car without gas,

lions that have been fed,

libraries that have burned,

humans and politics,

the winter sun at noon,

a hollowed out temple…

"This is the kind of thing I'd write about"

She whispers,

naked,

a tequila bottle shaking in her hand.

"Is that so?"

He murmurs against her skin.

She nods as her lips

meet the bottle,

and his lips,

meet her.

Intoxication

xxx

Hangover

xxx

Withdrawal

xxx

Relapse.

you  run!                   

                               ...everywhere.

Tiny fireball,

Don't ever 

let them 

extinguish you.