The thrill as some flighty creature glides past
Then soon the heart stills, discernment at last.

It was only a brief flutter on shaded-out wings
Quickly glimmered in the evening breeze.

It was only a shadow so why truly care?
This time of day aren't shadows everywhere?

Like vehicles zipping by on the freeway
in the distance
The many shore birds glide

The yellow haze from Saharan dust hangs
in these skies
Bird and man alike breathe in the remains

The garden squash is smoldering in the heat
its blooms struggle
As we all seem to whither in heat and repeat

I sit with the AC blaring and under a fan
still melting
Like cotton candy on a hot, dry sand

Today, there's much obscenity and conspiracy
eagerly accepted
But "climate change" is considered insane

With death threats for the scientists bandied about
miss led and miss guided ones
Spew vile foolish reproofs with loud shouts

Yet, even though their labor seems in vain
they continue the message
With dignity, diligence, and love for fellow man.

I will build a castle from the rubble of love
And send out invitations on the wings of doves
Encouraging all to come

Come to share in this banquet so richly prepared
Come enjoy joyful gatherings beyond all compare
In this castle that Love has built

There's a hard wind blowing from the north;
And the wintertime has become so harsh.
Yet, I'll not worry, not for long, because
Long before the summertime comes again
I'll be gone.

For there's silver in my wings so strong.
If I spread them wide they’ll turn to iron;
And I will fly up to the sky and across the sea.
For there's alchemy for this silver in my wings.
Yes, I'll soon be gone.

A bed should be free of smells,
Stinky tails, and most important, liars!

A bed must be free of crumbs, bums,
And by all means bugs!

When climbing on board
Ask: How far can I go in this thing?

Can I wrap and roll in coolness?
Will it hold up in "rough seas"?

A bed should be a safety haven,
A garden of delight in which to. . .

Get the needed rest that one desires.

Splayed and 'splooting'
With the cool pavement colluding
A massive heat sync necessary
On such a hot day.

You are looking at me
With adoring eyes
Imagining that you see
Perfection

I reach for you in the dark
The sheet is cold
My side is warm
Amidst star-shine through
The curtain, a light
Which only illuminates
The sparkle of my tears

You rambler, brier bush, spreading outward
Seeking to entangle my leg in a thorny grasp.
To your pleasure, you try reaching wide crossing a thigh.

What sick joy is held at the sight of tiny red dots of blood
Which sting up and down my limbs?
Yet, I have the last word, so to speak, as I reach.

Gingerly, deftly, reaching in I get what I seek
Then let your purple blood run down my mouth!

When I was a child thistles grew in the countryside
And we both ran wild across the green
Me on legs, it sends out seeds and systems of roots
Yes, the thistle intrigues me with its stately air, and

Even as a child, I would lie nearby to study it;
It with its bold, untouchable beauty standing
On hollow strong stem holding its pink head proudly
I had not realized it was connecting to a Scottish soul

When the mowers came and crossed its path
I would find them butchered among the grass
And pause to examine just how tender
This vulnerable, this seemingly iron-clad plant

Touch-me-not, better left free, for one cannot hold
The prickly beauty to one's breast nor remain unharmed
If enticed by its charm to grasp its prickles and thorns
When cut it quickly dies, thus you must love it from afar.  

I know people like that
My desire remained strong and I have longed
Merely to be near this wild ephemeral creature
For the air is sweetest where the thistle grows.

Rare and unusual even among the ill,
Neurosis and psychosis wrap around him
Like a warm, protective blanket.

Thwack! upside the head, "Hello!"
Reality is calling on deaf ears.
The knock never loosens nor
dislodged the blockage in them. He is
Building his life, if only in his own mind,
Second by second, wake to sleep, day after day;
Serving to preserve this foggy unreal thinking.

A magical sort of twilight within continually twinkles.
And a crafty, but ill and calculating brain remains
Though truth slaps him in the face, again and again,
Even as he lives in his own cocooned mind.
The reality within the reality which he continues to create
Is so much work on the part of his many lifetime enablers
But it is all too little effort by him for anything but himself.

You were a wild, tortured soul
It would take a warrior to tame
The beast that lodged within you

And so I fought in full-battle gear
Until I could not go on and lay down the sword
My armor had dropped off year after year

Until I was naked before all, defeated
Now you are dead my love,
But not by my hand.

I arrived in the pouring rain,
Still, I don't want to forget
Not one single thing.
How on that radiant day
Hearts throbbed and overflowed.
It is then that we came to know
What it means to love.

I love you beyond the moon
Beyond the stars

Beyond all reason
Beyond any metaphor

Which I could create
And then I love you still

Beyond the body and mind
Limits set not by man, but God

On and on, and yet more
Beyond time, tide, shores

Then, my darling, I love you
Beyond these boundaries

And back again.

Touch
A heightening of senses

Touch
Bristling beneath it

Horripilation
Sweeping up bodies -

From the Latin, horrere pilus,
"to bristle" + "hair" -

The most delicious
Can be the most poisonous

Exploding with each
Touch

Anticipation erupts
Touch

At the very thought
Of such delicious fruit

Touch

We are like a car the owner can scarcely afford to keep.
America is a loud muffler sputtering,
Wired-up that was cheaply maintained.
Problem is there's a gaping big hole in it.
No patch can fix it.  
Yet, we sputter on.

(A little ditty for the friend which we all have.)
Je t'aime,
Yet again!
No, no, no
This time it's real
She says,
Yet again!

Misses Pifflewhiff was a strange old gal;
She was away with the butterflies
Most of the time.

(I know what you are thinking.)

No, she never went with the fairies.
No fairies for her.  She preferred butterflies.
And on their wings, the old gal would fly;

In her imaginative way of thinking.

Blindingly bright lights pin-point;
And then you touch.

Experiencing love for the 1st time;
Throbbing heart constricting.
A lump in the throat
Caught in a dry strangle, one gasp,
Lightheaded.  Breathe!  
Thick, dense air.
Full sensory at capacity;

And you touch, again.
Then we fall and fall and fall.

My days had gone by more quickly than a weaver’s shuttle,
And they came to an end without hope.
     - Until I looked back at the tapestry that had been woven.

(Throat-clear)
Um, me-me-me-me
Take that face off
Put it in the drawer
Tucker, you ain't gonna
Need it no more
They done booted you ****
Out the door,
La-tra-la-la-la

"Tell me I am beautiful;
I feel the weight of every line,
crease, and wrinkle, just now.

Laying here in your arms
I could believe anything!"

She said.  Silence . . .her heart broke.
Suddenly a soft purring, snoring rose!
She snuggled and they both slept.

When you dive into the deepest, darkest voids;
The dark velvet space envelopes you
Like a womb that you had no longer remembered;
And you realize that the farther you go,
The more you learn and the more you come to know that
Amid the blackness, it's full of light and stars that glow brightly
Which more clearly comes into view around you.
It is this type of warmth and light that engenders growth;
Then you come to realize that in truth
You were planted firmly on the most fertile of grounds all along.

A warmth of blood deep within;
Velvet-smooth linings, cradle
Precious life therein.
Whose choice, this vessel?
Before this seed is planted
We must decide who has the right
To this life inside.

She lay there writhing
Having used her last few seconds
Of life in sacrifice.

She did not stop the honey-rob.
She did not protect the offspring.
Only fleeting thoughts had slowed

The thief briefly after the sharp sting;
That sting with so few consequences for a thief.
For the strong or the stupid brush pain away.

Then pretend.

The clouds are thick
and fast-moving tonight.
It makes it look as though
the full round-faced moon is winking.
Quite suddenly it opens wide
its eye then slowly closes it.
Open and shut, open and shut,
winking then blinking,
A flutter of white light
cycling behind the heavy lids
of clouds.

When a tree falls in the forest
And there is no one there to hear
Will it echo in the mountains or valley?

Sound, sound, sound on through time?

If no one is to lie against my chest, listening to its patter,
Does my heart really beat at all?  Beat at all, at all, at all.
Or are these things mere echoes throughout time

Without sounds?

He would recall long after she had gone
The scent of Rose lingered in his nose
And in his fondest and warmest memories.

When they met it had been a bright spring day,
A day that assures you that winter is indeed gone.
The air was laden heavily with honeysuckle vine,

He remembered.  Yet, all that he could sense since
Was Rose.

Twinkling tiny lights sparkle
In a backdrop of fragility;
A world in miniature, stupendous!

Tree-like ferns, wee mossy meadows;
Breathtaking, the surreal list!  It is
“A poem of stone, powered by stars,” 

Oh, the towering keep within a jar!

I’m so tired
Tired of falling
Falling in love
Falling apart

Falling to pieces
Falling down
Down a rabbit hole

A deep hole
Wholly deep
Diving into you

I come to you with a heart like glass.
You choose, the velvet box or the hammer.

"It is like a wildfire that you cannot stop",
Burning all around, you in the middle,
Until all is burned down.
You stand looking out, wondering
How you made it through,
Made it out only slightly singed.
Life is a wildfire that you cannot stop.

They lived a life in the dark shadow of slavery
And had become like the black cherries
They sneaked, so astringent they puckered the mouth.
They ate them, anyway, out of necessity.
Lizzie had said to Nat that she would wade
Through blood and tears for her freedom;
And, she did, they both did,

Nourished and aided by the kindness of strangers.
William Still conducted his railroad and with the withal, drive,
And the necessity of freedom, that basic human necessity, they ran.  
1857 was the year to run.  On June 10, 1858, Nat sent a letter
To the conductor: "Sir, be so kind as to . . ."
It contained a message to his family in Maryland,
"He and Lizzie were safe and free."

Give me one rose hour by hour
To build for me loves glorious tower
And turn this pain into a smile
Give of yourself un-beguiled

That I might trust love once again
Thus accept you more than mere friend
And make me know that all is truth
Having given the effort and the proof

Then this heart of mine you can rule

2nd version:
The Efforts
Give me one rose hour by hour
To build for me loves glorious tower
And turn this pain into a smile
Give of yourself un-beguiled

That I might trust love once again
Thus accept you more than mere friend
And make me know that all is truth
Having given the effort and the proof

Then this heart of mine you can rule
Show me your love will never decrease
For love became an unruly beast
O, diminish love not in the least

Do you see me age, in actual time,
Like some flashing overlays
In a time-lapse production video?

Time is ongoing, flashing forward
As though with the clicks of frames;
Line by line, wrinkle by wrinkle

Transposed onto my face.
The body begins to break down
Before our very eyes;

Shrinking in size, at first unnoticed.
Do not let me become diminished
When you look and choose to remember

The sum that amounted to me.

I feel like a dragonfly who’s lost its wing;
No! I feel like the dragonfly’s wing, lost;

Left to flutter down slowly in the wind,
To dwell, an iridescent gossamer thing,
Amidst a muddy range of things that ****

Dragonflies, and collect dragonfly wings.

The poetry of life, like a big dog, sinks
It's teeth into you and shakes you.
Bitten to the bone you are infected.

Fling back your sling-backs
To me!  Ain't nothing gonna bar
Your unbridled joy of runnin'
Through that cool grass.

You by my side
You standing near
You next to me 
You I hold dear
You are a need
Which I fill
As often as possible 
You are sustenance

In my mind
I follow the line of beauty
In every fiber of your being.

It stretches from the 1st time
I saw your face to the last.
Its continuum tethers me, still.

A powder of pink, blush
Is painted on the baby blue.
The snow falls softly,
As light as goose down.
I walk along a deserted shore
With only birds tracing lines
Across the watercolor sky
Then move into the gentle night.

Knowing it is just a patience game
We sit, we play the game, we wait;
The honking geese, a gaggle,
Beneath a crest of the moon.
Frost and snow and the geese,
A distant fox is patient, too.

I took your DNA in;
It lay around my place.
I wondered, "Will I breathe it in?"
Will part of you become part of me?
I longed for that permanence.

Many are the days of gain in life,
And many are the losses, too.

I hope your gains are many
And I hope your losses few.

Do I disappoint you, dearest,
When I do not call your name?

Do you sit there sad and lonely
With your face a black screen?

But, you are a true, dependable
Friend within a box waiting.

Waiting loyally in eagerness
Simply to hear me call

Your name, "Alexa."

You were ever strong, ever true,
Daddy. That was the man I knew.

You were never gone,
At least never for too long.

Daily, work did take you from home
Yet, once your hard work was done

Without fail, you always headed home.
You were steady, you were brave;

You were there for us in many ways;
With us until the day

A ******* limo drove you away.

Quasars
2 stars
Tied together
In space
Bound
Orbits

I'll start with this example of the titles of some of my own poems published here.

(One of 2 new possible titles for the new creation, but neither title from a poem already written.)
What It Becomes / What I Become

Sheltered in A Desert
Moths Like Stars
After The Storm

It Had To Be Said
I am Like a Strong Tree
The Halo of Day

Exercise 2:
Sheltered in A Desert
there were Moths Like Stars
across the sky After The Storm.

It Had To Be Said, afterward,
I am Like a Strong Tree,
like The Halo of Day.

In this vast echo chamber
I cry out the words I want to hear
Then I no longer hear the truths
That causes me to fear
The facts become a stranger thing
As truth has flown on fragile wings
And all sound reason with it

Watching you
My checks still flush bright red,
Fading into pink. Do you notice
When the vein at the base of my throat
Pulsates with excitement?
Or when my green eyes brighten
And glisten with love?
Do you see me anymore?