"insect's eye"

as blades of grass
cut morning dew, I blink
the sun from my hot eyes
and think of you, and where
we went. Right or wrong,
our day shall be
well, spent: extravagantly bought
and paid in coin of realms
by shores
of seas laid under
spell: so soft now, to sleep.
Perchance to dwell, cool
by breeze.

Perchance to change. Perchance
to keep, jingling now - brass
and nickel bells, in pocket
of the jeans you wore the day
we let it rain. Perchance
to weep.

- but wither now? Wither us?
What time, why fate, which chance? And what
luck shall we make dance, and whose funeral
shall we brighten, with our vows
to live?

I ask you now,
unfairly. Give or take, fair
life isn't
and ain't. Such things
as these cannot be known,
at least, temporarily. We wait
in vain, without complaint.

What will be
shall unfold
as buds in the sun,
petals breathing into season, parasols
for bugs below,
scuttling for a crumb

"That Look"

Intense emotion - you wear it well,
but I can't tell if you
have been going through hell? or perhaps
it's just hot inside, where you are. I could swear
you've been crying. But without leaning in,
it could easily be just a sheen of sweat.
From afar, either way
- you have the look
of someone who knows torment. And I wish
I could cool you off,
whether today has been hard, or soft
or whether you burn from without,
or within.

I wish I could kiss the salt from your skin.

sailor & coke

Don't let the sunny side
shining a light on sadland
bring you down! Whip up
a frothy cup of yourself
and say, "I do believe it's
hot, I do believe it's
sweet, I do believe it's
good" and then taste carefully
and see. Sometimes you have to be
your own mocha. Sometimes mocha
is not what you want.
Two broken hearts
walked into a bar and one said
"You look just like my better half."
The other said I can see why the fit
didn't work. Look, you're dull cracks
where I'm jagged edges. You're rounded, where
I'm all broke. You can't make
two hearts like these
beat as one, and
the bartender served them sailor & coke.

This one's for the LADIES:

This one's for the LADIES:

I mean those who gendersexually self-identify as "a lady,"
in preference to but without denigration of "woman"
or even "girl" - those for whom
the archaizing of the term
seems an attempt to rob an essential dignity
and elegance, that feels natural to them
and then, who risk (perhaps) a rift
between themselves and others who will wish
to invoke class war and oligarchy,
accuse you of aristocracy, or simply say
"I hate how that sounds" - demonize you that way.
This one's for the ladies.

You know what I'm talkin bout.

Awwwww yeh