I can’t come to you for my pain in the throat

But I can for the pain in my soul.

Perception is your prescription

Somehow I took too many dose

My pore my nostrils

Inflated with the onrush of ecstasy

It’s mistaken,

Curiosity should be the cure.

Paddling through this vastness

I look at the ripples I made.

Floating and whirling,

Clanking and Clinking

Shelley, Wordsworth and Blake.

In the middle of the tranquility

I plunged into the blue

Oh, Arizona sun, you blinds me.

2 days and 6 hours are all the time we left.

While you’re striding in time,

I got left 25 years behind.

Doing math here isn’t going to do me any good

As long as your beard stays prickly.

Now it is all gone

I can’t tell if the time is moving on.

You are a poet, a musician and everything

When you smile it’s sonnet 18

When you frown it’s dark ambient to me.

When you pause and bury your head in the book

I would caress your hair like zither

Sing an ode to your soul

Your pale long fingers, fragile and bossy

Manipulate strings and words and minds easily

Slap me, pop me and shape me please.