around you

a few brief moments

and you’re in my head

i’d have you

in my bed

if it weren’t full

of ghosts

i scream to get you out

alas

too busy

pulling you in

and wrapping my legs

around you

mist

a tree stands

forlorn in a field

surrounded by nothing

covered and damp

with mist

you and I

missed again

the breadth of our loss

meant nothing

and the tree

is just a tree

in the mist

My son

He is joy
Skinned knees
Dirty faced
He smells like
Rich earth
And boy
And jelly beans
His laugh is
Always real
His tears
Lessons we all
Have to learn
But moms hate
To see
He makes everything
New
He makes me young
And melts my heart
My sweet boy
My son

Starting over

Always
Always starting over
Every time
Your body brushes
My leg
Your hand
Brushes mine
Your smile
Touches my face
I start over
Haunted
Hunted
Starting over

whiskey

pick a fight
frustrated and devastated
patience wearing thin
sexual impetuous
fingers leaving dusty smudges
on my collar bones
as you crush your lips
on mine
fire in your eyes
throw me down
whiskey makes the room spin

if i could write

it would have a different ending

the middle would

change a bit too

the beginning?

the beginning was sweet

and i will always

cherish it

maybe the ending

will become the middle

and the beginning

will begin again

Elegy

it is times like these

when sacred voices cry

wind in trees

and Gaelic haunts

when to feel the breeze

inside the still box

shadows crossing

closed eyes

to once again

taste her lips

on mine

and feel again

the pain

of remembering

Hats

look at her hat

it seems to be

throwing itself

all over the lane

my hat

on the  other hand

is behaving nicely

thank you

perched just so

nice and neat and trim

just a little wear at the banding

but neatly mended

thank you again

it is of a hue

of black or blue

can’t tell anymore

without strong light

my hat speaks primly

of please and thank you’s

my hat shouts

well, nothing

a strong gust

will not dislodge it

but if you could

peep under that

well secured

neatly groomed

tight and tidy

brim

you might find

a bit of sequin

a lick of flame

maybe even

a touch of porn

but of course

no one

would ever

know

Julie at The Buffaloe Pen has written a wonderful whimsical piece about her hat. Her work has inspired me to write a little something about my own.  Thank you Julie, that was just plain fun!

to the dawn

feeling your heart beat
just you and i
and nothing else
it was easy
to convince myself
you felt me
harder
to convince myself
you didn’t
didn’t matter then
doesn’t matter now
so i tell myself
i saw what was there
in your eyes
my own reflection
laughing back
fooled again
by something
more Savvy
than myself
once again
racing my soul
to the dawn

empty

empty
nothing at all
became something
and something
became something else
altogether
that something else
became something more
and suddenly
something more
became nothing
nothing at all
once again
empty

written for One Single Impression