Feels like a soft whirlwind
Caught in the space between
The instant I see your face
Till I finally taste your smile.

Seems only moments ago our hearts joined
And feels like years plus a day
Since I heard your enticing voice
Sensual and low next to my ear.

Anticipation dances on my lips
Quivering blood rushes in my veins
Empty arms reach forward
Restless to feel the impassioned heat of your skin

I will miss the acrobatic squirrels
as they vault from tree to tree
searching for an acorn treat
while they fuss and bark at me.

I will miss the speedy rabbits
as they sprint from the brier patch
brown blurs dodging red tail hawks
when they dive beneath the thatch.

I will even miss the feral hogs
all their grunting as they root about
snuffling for some roots and grubs
with their blunt and muddy snout.

From the twelfth to the fourteenth tome
Kings chronicled their might and powers
Where a great ruler made a solemn request
For knowledge and wisdom above all else
To regulate fairly over all his subjects

In league with Hiram’s adroit workmen
Bequeathed a temple legacy to the craft
With treasures buried under the stones
Men went in search of a hush-hush grail
That remains elusive to the mundane

Drip, drip, drip,
like a faucet leaking slow,
running through my mind,
like a rabbit in the snow.

Tick, tick, tick,
like a clock that counts the time,
snatching at my focus,
whirling like a dime.

I MISS MY UNDERWEAR

I miss my suit navy blue
the buttons on my Ralph Laurens
crispy white
the times I could tie my shoe
and the nights my bladder made the loo

most of all I miss
my Calvin Klein underwear
boxers, briefs, high rise, low rise
any kind of rise
Speedos that set hearts reeling
Jockeys with that special feeling.

yet when all is said and done
the packaging may change
but the merchandise is still the same…

The wind seems far away
when the observer declares
independence, all things
pass within circles and hands
of clay....

If you will, demonstrate your ignorance
oh, small child of remarkability: you held
an elephant's trunk once and dreamed it
your own, you swallowed a dozen flies and
ate paste to build prisoner's walls.
There is nothing to stand between your head
but yourself. Counter the terror of the madness
you name.

In her shadeless declaration, only moonlight absolves.

Spoon feeding each other
the rain
moaning with the thunder
zig-zag bodies convulsing

but you didn't like the poem
I wrote afterwards,
you said
it didn't do anything for you
and there weren't any lines
that jarred you

but hey, I could have said
sex wasn't earth-shattering
but I won't.

and all you could say is "better".

All I could think is yeah, it better
be better or this metaphor will
walk out the door.

"He loves me."

Reality Raised

Dreams are expectations thrown away with christmas paper,
expectations are hopes that we are given by the life shaper
The life shaper is never to be seen in his working gowns,
shapers get seduced by money to seduce the working clowns.
The man in the pink tee shirt talks a lot, maybe he is nervous,
a woman in a hat starts to scream, unhappy with the service.
all the fine bags, coats, can’t help themselves they’re dripping,
poor people on the march to work, puddles and potholes skipping.

It is common to hear
Amongst the people here
Such unspeakable words
‘My mother is a witch’
They go ahead to say
Things hard to believe
Accept it or not
I know what I am saying

Instances are drawn
To affirm and to confirm
The mother stands guilty
As accused by wagging tongues

Days before our second baby
My mother saw something
That was in a dream
A baby in bathing water
With its face downward
Thereafter, we had a still born

between the hate
between the love
like the dissolved
temporary hearts
melting
in the swallow

these snows
late catching
the grey ghosts
oblique pain wrapped
like a thin chilled
cheater coat

we can be together
as the day falls to night
on old sheets
as a scratched disc
crawls about
thirty three and some
revolutions
we can go around
while snowflakes scratch
the cracked walls