Some stuff I'm working on....

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At the time, we were gods
Caressing our skin on the flesh of the earth
Rivers and streams were our beds
The night sky our breath, our altar

We wore galaxies beneath our skin
Placed atoms in our massive hands
And counted our simple one-two breaths

We were peasant kings,
Grape-eaters in our primitive times
Tasting the flesh of the blistered sun under our tongues

Wearing away the centuries, we traded our fins for feet,
Our gills for a taste of transparent breaths
We were bidding farewell to our fellowship beginnings,
When we split our bodies with time and space
And we found a home in the pebbles that lined our forged hearths
We began to precariously perch ourselves on wooden foundations
And paddle towards a new dawn


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I’ve been craving you lately, my love
Yearning to let my fingers wander through your skin
And set a map maker to find the hidden places
That are calling my name

My god, how I’m craving your softness, love
Wanting all your corners to melt into mine ‘till the
Sky splits apart and sends us crashing
Into its elevated arms

Beaching ourselves in rivers, we bide our time
Licking wounds and flushing out burrs
‘Till our feet are once again ready to fly

Here we are, love, in wordless place where time bends
And cannot grab a hold of us
Where a paper’s memories take
Root in our bodies and spread like little children
A place where centuries dilate, hearts stop,
And all that remains are atoms passing between you and me
Like secret signals finding their way through the constellated space
And taking root in our breaths.

The Fool is a Holy One

The fools are out, tread carefully.
Fear not, young one.
Your teeth are sharper than their tongues.

Seedlings

Little sprouts!!! Make your way into the world: Through the padlocks and barracades! Fight your way through the earth 'till your fingernails bleed and your faces muddy and your knees skin worn thin and worry imprints itself on your callow brows!!You, little children, rays in the universe, beam your faces into the future. Look into our past and recognize our sadness. Press it into your feet that when you walk over the dirt roads of your youth, it will be dilligently etched into your soles so you forever remember. Walk between the bullets and scatter your lovely selves like grain over our barren wasteland. See our hate and let it melt into your hearts like miniature peppermint patties on your tongues. Transform, little ones....

The Sophmore

Sophmoric, this attempt at adulthood. Too long have you been at the entrance, too short a length to take a baby step. Not wanting for a return to that hard time of la' enfant. Blubbering and stumbling into this country's social graces, a trained chimp wrapped and ready for show time at the circus. I am here. Traveling around the edges of womanhood. Keeping the hand holding at a distance, yet in view. I tight-rope walk this sex. My gender is waiting for me to take my place (#856849). Keep waiting, for my time has not yet come. I will ripen, inevitably, like an orange in the sun. The green running from my skin with each slow sea change. My insides softening, sweetening, preparing to be that soft place in my self I have searched for so long in others. My scent wafting in the summer scorching air sending the alert to the rest. I am ready for a hand, a grasp, a touch.

Kisses and such

Sometimes the kisses are a little late coming/like tender little whispers on the skin/they are far too wanton and too cautious to be called kisses/virulent like strong wine is what they should be, ready to take the hand of their receiver and take flight over the seas and praries/casting shadows over this too earthly plane/finding new lands to discover hand in hand, they draw us in and set us alight on their starlight wings/ brushing late tears from our cheeks that shatter our hearts from the wooden caskets we've set them after years of battery.
Kisses should be free to take us in their hands and fly us into the beautiful infinity/borrowing the sun's fire and setting us alight into heaven/stealing breaths from the wind and casting us off like anchorless kites.
This is what kisses should be.