Heaven Goes

Soft moon in the night

Stop whispering to me

I’ve been drunk with you too long

And it’s late.

I need clouds in the sky.

This anesthetized canopy above me won’t do.

I need you.

Soft moon, safe drugs

I’m tiring of your tricks,
Can't take much more of this.

Maverick rebels and honey devils
Your graceless art is gone

I’ve known this all along

But your spirits are so strong.

One breath of you and I’ll be fine

The soft luscious sting of wine

Your neck, chin and jaw line.

If I taste your lips

I’ll need more of this
So much to touch, so much to risk.

Soft evil, generous love
The grace of now, looming above.
Flesh and spirits flirt and flow
Blood and lust in constant throes
A loving stupor we have chose
Because we both know where heaven goes.

Wish For It

When I'm not writing; I'm out there living.

So this 

is an offering, a rebellion, a testatment

to strange silences

that batter the brain and bleed in the belly, 

and summon more noise than voices.

This is the feeling of never quite reaching, but always stretching

for that lingering insatiable nagging desire

that will never entirely be fulfilled 

because love and art and dreams

are eternal wells 

at the bottom 

of my naive 

little heart.

Dragonflies and Daffodils

Every morning is velvet
Most mornings I'm straight
One sheet, two lovers
Open up the gate.

I love the way your eye lashes
Rest against your cheek
The steady rhythm of your chest
Matches my heart beat.

Winter Blues Haiku

I miss the sound of
quick summer feet on sidewalks
and the sunlit leaves.

Lines

Some lines are indelible

Running deep and rough

Carving out recesses

For love and hurt.

Some messages are never lost

Always floating about

Suspended by lines we drew

Sometime ago

To hold us together.

I suppose we were meant to meet today.

Together talking

Pointing to the past

Taking tallies

Tricking our fears

To tolerate truths.

And I thought I had cut you out

With swift and painful snips

I thought I had digested the pieces

And exhaled them

I even watched them flutter in the air

And scatter to a thousand indiscernible places

But my heart is wide and sticky and fucking clung to them all.

Norwegian Jesus

honey devil, rising moon
safe drug, it's come too soon

soft evil, copper spoon
gentle kisses, make flowers bloom

honey's dead
you should have known

pack your pipe
the dreams have flown

Phantom Youth

Maybe the only universal truth
is the steady existence of phantom youth.

The teenage extremes, 
the cool drawls of ambivalence,
the angular excitable limbs,
the flashes in the eyes,
the bravado and insecurity all meshed together
into a super-charged raw animal mixture of total 
joy and madness.

But one day comes when we are no longer the target market,
and we think that maybe that old high school teacher was right
when he said, 'Youth is wasted on youth.'
But of course we didn't understand that, then.

Even though our hearts no longer race and thud 
like cat's feet down stairs, 
and our nights aren't spent feeling small
in dimly lit rooms pondering what it's all about,
or parading down suburb sidewalks drunk with the night,
or stretching our bodies under warm blankets late in the morning,
or worrying and fretting 
about what somebody might have thought, or said, or implied,
that phantom youth alights upon us
like a soft talisman hitting us like a stone.

And suddenly we need to catch a snowflake on our tongue,
make an angel in the snow,
ride our bikes through rain puddles,
breath in the earth and mud and rain of Spring,
let our backs be warmed by the sun,
grab someone we love with fierce joy,
and live deliberately.

Sometimes the phantom of youth is lamentable.
We rise, feeling refined but dull
pushing our shopping carts through
grocery aisles, reading nutrition labels
and later touching the soft parts of our bodies
with a tired caress.

Maybe I'm just childless and naive.
And maybe these idle days of chasing dreams,
smiling at trees and drinking tea
has left me with a bankruptcy
of responsibility.

Or maybe I'm just okay
with letting the phantoms
swirl about just enough
to make me sound and sweet
and forever meet 
each moment 
with pulse and heat.