Black wings outstretched, Hot eyes aglow
She floats among the drifting snow.
The angel all had thought was lost
Is back, now men must pay the cost.

A fiend is she with eyes of lust
That scorch the soul to blackened dust.
Tormented souls in anguish wail,
Their screams for mercy of no avail.

They try to flee but stand affixed
Her eyes burn deep with orders mixed
They try to know, to understand,
But in their depths they grasp the strand.

His fingers danced with the keys,
so hard, his breath, it blew.
The wind brought out the music,
and memories of you.

Each and every song he played,
took me farther back.
The saxophone breathed low,
put me in the sack.

We traveled down to New Orleans,
around the countryside,
Texas prairie, Arizona,
sure had a hell of a ride.

We fought and loved the way they say,
in the movies that you see.
Always making up for something,
that was you and me.

springtime did arrive
frogs are jumping and humping
pigeons are nasty

In whispering woods, where shadows play,
A cabin stands, at close of day.
There dwells a soul, both kind and bright,
Known to her dear ones as just "Cat," a light.

But when the moon begins to gleam,
And casts its silver, softest beam,
A different magic starts to rise,
Reflected in her thoughtful eyes.

By candlelight, a gentle glow,
Her poet's heart begins to flow.
With pen in hand, and words that weave,
The secrets that her spirit believe.

The sun, a forge in skies of endless blue,
Melts all the edges, sharp and hard away.
And on the lake, a vision fresh and new,
A summertime blonde begins her bright display.

Warm skin softly touched, Moon hangs heavy, breath held close, Whispers in the dark.

The tow rope taut, a lifeline to the speed,
The engine hums a rhythmic, pulsing beat.
Then with a surge, she rises, born indeed
Upon the mirrored surface, cool and sweet.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!
Oh! Fuck.
Never again.

Her hands cupped over her face
dripped sadness like spring rain
falling from the sill where orchids bloomed beneath.
He just stood there helpless, could do nothing.
She had always been so sensitive,
He could see memories flooding her mind
into puddles where lives had grown . . .

The book just happened to open to the page, that page
she had written on forty years ago
wishing him a successful and happy life
under her autograph, words during a time
when the times were good . . .

Pissed-off people tend to wrench and squirm
like worms rising above mud, fouled
with battering toxic rain,
their voices fiery,
honed and strong like steel,
rich in content,
clear intent,
dissent...
hope.

Have you ever made love in a cool woodland glade
As a soft summer rain on your flesh softly played?
Have you held her more tightly as skin tingles with lust
Both laughing as desire envelopes as dust?

Have you ever made love on warm summer sands
Soft waves lapping your body as silken hands,
Kissed and caressed as night birds flew
As darkness cool blanket brought pleasures anew?

That first time I loved her,
A moment so brief,
The body, mind, froze,
Imbued with relief.