Pillow TalkNight sighs in a million whispersEnsnared between lovers lips.Each minute sound, a small confession;A single stitch closer to a marvelous tapestry.In the moonlight we wink in Morse code,Slowly weaving ourselves into a single clothA cloth, fine, rich, and soft,Yet rugged and durableTitanium satin.With the hint of rustling,The wind betrays our presence,Exposing out pressed, folded, and wrung shapes.Tonight, we crochet emotion into existence,One strand at a time.
Moment of WeaknessHush, she saysFingers in my hair.My heart racesBeneath all the layersOf synapses, muscle, skin.She leans forward,Lips open and full.My mind cluttersYet I am in a lullFrom caresses and sweet sin.Her breath is now mineIt has been for far too long.My mouth thinks its rightBut my mind knows its wrongGoing back to where I have been.
Amorous AnamorphosisMy love for you is a wild thingTwisted, tied, tangledInto a Möbius strip of feeling.When I see you, my stomach churnsAnd I want to say Everything out loud.But, when I see you, I also sufferFrom anarthria of the mind.
DraculaIDisembarkationThe clouds murmured and roared,Echoing war drums across the water.Lightning scarred the horizonIn violent arcs of energy.The torrential rain claimed all,An intense, wrathful baptism.My nails scoring the Earth,I crawled onto the slick shore.Unleashing a baleful howl,Declaring my arrivalAnd want of company.In dream you heard me.Ears ringing, eyes flutteringYour heart was lulled by my call.Alone, I slept in the dirt of my ancestors,Whispering, mouthing words of comfort:MinaII.VisitationAcross silken shadowsYour heartbeat murmured,Gently tugging my limbs into action.Wreathed in shadow and mistI followed the ethereal sound,Thud-thud,To your high window.With soft eyes I gazedUpon your silent beauty;A solace to my solitude.Beckoning with my soul,You awoke, fumbling with the latchAnd we glided into the night.Your head rested upon my chest,My thundering heart.Hanging in the moonlight,As if suspended on s
Tourist SeasonThe geese lazily flap their wings as they descend. White on grey, geese on clouds. A huge V cut into the clouds, and flying in like some sort of plane. Their delicate features curve, arc, and dip, magnified by the binoculars.Just look at them all, I say, surveying the great white mass of them. Like the fucking tulips, only white.The field is teaming, and consequently, so are the roads. I sigh, and march up to my truck. A deep green van pulls up behind me, and a family of four jumps out. Two children, both boys, and young. They all stand there, on the side of the road, all boggle-eyed and oohing and aahing while taking pictures. Never mind the half-ass parking job, theyre only halfway in the lane. Plenty of room on these roads. Especially when cars fly by going fifty.Untroubled, the geese just mill around, occasionally honking and saluting each other as more and more of them alight onto the cold, dark fields. In another month or so they
Emo PinocchioYou sit in the corner,Staring at us with bleary eyes.You cant stare at the wallBecause your nose reaches out the doorFrom all the lies youve told;Building yourself into something youre not:Happy- Copyright, February 2009
Island HopperIn the hot, Caribbean sunYou jump aboutFrom white sands to white sands,Getting burned all over.You never stop to look outAt the emerald water,Only the blazing sun,Slowly blinding yourself.You never stop jumpingBeach to beach,Constantly avoidingThe refreshing water.You never stop to question,"How's my skin?""Why am I burned, not tan?"So stop, think,And listen from within.Foolish island hopper.- Copyright, February 2009