Who knows how do delete poems

I long to run with the wolves,
feel the cool earth beneath my paws,
hunt a seemingly innocent doe
and shred her throat with teeth & claws.

I long to travel the mountainside,
the dense forests in which the pack hides.
And when I reach the top, I'll breathe sharp & realize
I've never been this high.

I long to nestle close
with those dear & whom I treasure most.
In a sea cave, lined with sand
just off the Pacific coast.

I long that when I'm old & frail
in a bed of leaves, I'll lie curled nose to tail.
I'll simply close my eyes, let the breeze sway
for this game was worth the life we played.

Blue before birth
to spark red and flushed
slapped straight to life
the organs begin to burst into beauty
thumping pumping until rhythmic
flows combine in combination with
senses to create an exquisite form
of life
you.

Take charge of the day
moment by moment
grow and flourish
in the bow of beauty and life
and spread you wings
on the the thermals of each moment
lift high, soar,sweep down and settle
where the your flock rests
waiting for you to arrive
to take part in the ritual
Take Part now

She was all that, tall and filled
with mathematical curves and points
in languid poses aware
that male eyes grew bigger at her *****
welcome.

*** her legs never stopped growing
and barely touched the ground
poised and ready to pounce
panther like grace and beauty
to wrap around adventure
beckoning.

She wrote poems too
insipid though
moonbeams and roses
love and languish
imaginary lovers, unfulfilled dreams.
That sort of stuff!

I had her figured one whole summer
and my numbers and curves vastly improved
to the touch and taste
and her eyes swelled dolefully
at my cryptic poems

When she went back to hubby
She offered just one comment
on those vast tracts of writing:
Sounds good, but what do they mean?

Honesty makes your heart flutter.
I know that for sure. Winter arrived.

It's this inner craving to be different that hurts
this impulsive fire
so desirous
so ravenous
so disastrous
I feel I've no chance at not reducing myself to ash.

Then there are those times where my fire blazes wildly
blindly
and blissfully.
It radiates, spilling light on anyone near
embers encapsulating and holding them there
and a certain grace falls over me
over us.

I want to lie in a place
where I can't breath,
witness the curvature,
hang out with my buds
& spoon at sixty below
under the seracs.
For in those moments
& with those people,
I feel truly real.

You cut me into tiny pieces,
appetizers for your hearty appetite,
it feels like the same menu
I've been on forever
& I know the recipe.

Yet still I dream of
becoming a tasty dessert,
having an after dinner drink
with the right diner,
toasting the stars.

I had a dream that you were larger than life.
I slipped in through your mouth
to learn the secret of your insides.
You spat me out.
I fell.
You caught me with hands the size of clouds,
then stuck me in a cage with a yellow canary.
I had to eat the bird to stay alive.
You're a neglectful pet owner.
Now I'm  trapped here
with no company.
I long to be free.
I cannot fly;
I never sing,
but it would be alright
if you'd just look at me.