I want to write a poem
he shouts

then tell one to the pen and ink

I have
he screams
They just don't shout


Then write a poem

I am
He yells
But they won't scream like me
the way I would if I--

Then scream!
he shouts

Nothing's without beauty
when the sun is setting slowly
softly sinking the horizon
every tree becoming bough

every animal and flower
mountain wise old man and child
reflect aged daylight dying
and delight the youth of night

Oh no...
oh no, no, no.

Yes...

Yes!

"Yes."

I am me
no construct can constrict
me to its limits
I am me
my being flows
with the tide
my being wanes with
the moon
I am me

In the eras of men
I will fall on the doorstep
of man
but I am man
and I woman
I am me

I am the flow of water in the delta
I am the drought of disbelief
in the desert
I am me

If the age forgets
my presence while it begets
the future on a son or daughter
of eternity
in my place
I am at peace
because I am me
And they smile
if they are worth my while
they are me
and I am bliss

Thirteen moons
rise from your shoulders
eclipsing our eyes
before they wane

silver-blue mist
falls with the sun
setting slow
setting red
spilling its blood

Thirteen full moons
wax round your face
framing our secret
eclipsing fear

Prying
solace out from
the night
Thirteen moons
circle infinity

Back to back with spines
all lined up binding crumbling
on old tomes
the musty scent of
aged words wafts
off the books into my world
As I walk their quiet rows
they jump at me from
quiet shelves
rumbling deep inside
my mind there finding
solace with myself

"Your eyes,
oh your eyes"
He croons
She smiles
"The pout of your lips
such seductive beguile
Your laugh,
its joy!"
He tingles her pride
"Your lofty ambitions,
so much to admire"
"Say more,"
she leans forward

"Your eyes,
oh your eyes"
He offers
She stares
"Your porcelain face,
your alluring air
Your laugh,
its charm!"
She purses her lips

"Your eyes,
your eyes?"
He murmurs
They glare
"Your soft, rosy lips,
your silken hair."
She turns to leave

"Your eyes,
your eyes"
He repeats quietly