.
One day at a time
swings the pendulum;
only love awakens senses
too ephemeral to be restrained,
like the magic of a phonograph stylus
in a vintage vinyl groove
and the sensual touch
      of skin so new

It's not easy to watch
a flock flying away
      in the distance,
seeing the expanse beyond
reach of a wandering mind;

      heed distracted
      by the slow sway
of the treetops hypnotic careen

Doves dive on feathered canter,
      silent as the winged wind,
broke free from the gravity
      befallen the weight
            of the world
                                                
      Look­ing up wondering
            beyond the sky,
         the passing clouds
            crawl across
palliating the dusk hazed horizon

Synchronicity transcends across
an immeasurably deep river chasm,
      into a wordless abyss
      ensconced unthought
              between
        here and there

Silent silhouettes
            glide across
      the valley void below,
            wings to the sky

and, if you listen to a moment breathe,
            you can hear
                  the silent peace .............

you can feel the prevailing wind's direction
            blowing through your soul


             Jesse Stillwater
            December 2017

she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.

Puff, puff,
inhale,
the need,
of their cigarette,
hands.

The incomplete feeling,
of not having,
the freedom,
each huff,
gives.

The tips,
of their fingers,
itches,
just for one,
hit.

Breathe,
the smoke,
into their,
lungs.

Kiss,
the filter,
as if it's a lovers,
tongue,
tracing,
each line on their lips,
savoring its taste.

Lifting their heads,
slightly high,
as they blow,
the waves,
to the sky.

Thinking deeply,
and releasing,
stressing less,
the craving,
of their addiction,
under control.

The tingles,
within their nerves,
cools,
settles,
hinged.

Until the beacon,
of its poison,
calls again.

Sincerely,
a servant

Before you kiss someone for the first time,
Just wait.

Take a second to look at them.
They are so new and so unfamiliar.
Right now you don’t know how they taste,
How their hands will intertwine with yours,
How they’ll exhale after touching your bones.

You won’t see them like this ever again

Stare into their wanting -
the apprehension
budding inside their pupils -
they don’t know as well.
In their mind
you are uncharted territory as well.

Isn’t that special?

Keep it.
That’s how you’ll never lose them,
Or so I think.
Every so often after this moment,
look at them through these
soon to be ancient eyes.
Find this vision,
this exact dialect
of witness,
find these
pair of eyes

And don’t lose this wonder.
Don’t lose the spark.

For if you do,
The burns will leave you scared of the sun,
While the sunlight will still dance in their hair.

Even the universe is jealous of this moment, and will take this away from you in years to come,

Just know
If you are the forest fire
I will be the rainfall calming smoke scented winds.

Skin is delicate
But this story could be beautiful,
As we dive into the unknown.

- an excerpt from a book I’ll never have the courage to write