hi
high
my head is in the sky
you,
and i,
and the stars,
are not alone
well
this almost feels like home.

In the space between
Your lips and your kisses
Are worlds unexplored.

Too tight for a quark to
Slide through.
A molecular mastodon

Universe of questions answered
With microscopic lies, such
As: Is it safe to lay my lips

Upon the warmth of this poet?
Yes.
Yes.

Yes, it is safe. He will never
Cheat. He will never
Lie, he will

Never hurt your
Feelings
Unintentionally.

She looks up at me from the
Stroller, eyes wide open as
If she's never seen a shaved
Head before.
I'm guessing it's the head.

The tram is packed full of people,
And my country boy soul cringes
At the touch and smell of a
Hundred strangers.
So I focus on the little angel princess
Strapped gently to her

Throne on wheels, and in the
Vast space that our eyes meeting
Creates, I breathe pure, fresh air.
The tram is a hall we have to
Ourselves, and I'd trek to
The end of the universe

To find the last piece of candy
In existence, just to return,
Travel worn and outer space
Accustomed, just to place it
In her tiny hands
In gratitude.

To write food in the stomach
Of every hungry child.

To spell war as peace,
Metaphorize flowers into the barrel

Of every gun on Earth.
The poet has responsibilities

Beyond those of mothers,
Of kings and presidents.

I refuse to give up hope;  
This could be a poem world.

Come on, write your worst piece
Of literature.

Even misprints may give other
Meanings to a word,

Write me a green sky, blue dirt,
Trees the colour of air.

Sometimes the best poets
Have the least to say,

So keep writing, write until your
Fingers fall asleep.

Write until you havent slept
For weeks in search of that word,

That one right word,
Then rest on a notebook pillow

And dream the world right.
Write the world right.

There is no such thing as
Wasted poetry.

She's key to the prison isolating my heart.
She's purest of joy one can ever know, 
Angels dance at the edges of her heart, allergic to lies honesty is her pride.
Suffocated by ropes of sorrows, she untied them and climb to lands of jubilation.

Her smile awakens the smell of roses,
Clearing the fog of uncertainty.
A treasure worth forfeiting life for.
Enticing,alluring, comely, serene and mesmeric lady.

She's a lover, the light in the dark, a kind gentle heart sordid hands cannot reach.
The mind floods with memories shared —the heart, dried by old tears
and scarred by past lovers,
yearns again for her touch.

If I told you
my secrets
would you
hold them close?
Or would you
careless
scatter them wide?

I keep your secrets
please keep mine

Age
discovered
a heavy
door
and gently
pushed
to look
inside
and as
it looked
it pushed
some
more
and I
ran out
of time
to hide