The land greets the passing of time with a solemn serenity.
A silent witness to all the countless years,
a faithful historian of all that transpires.
From my vantage point your beauty flowers.
From my vantage point your belly undulates
as on a gentle ocean.
The heat between them, she looks down at
her lover... that she should have a love...
a man such as him.
I can’t figure her out, really.
She’s like a living poem... the
times too numerous to recall when
I've just existed in a daze,
Long ribbons of her hair cover my chest.
Her sweet breath tickles my nose.
Idly, she sings a languid tune...
She is a like cinnamon-scented dune beneath me.
Moonlight caresses her with mysterious shadows that
hold euphoric promise... her warm scent
creating nocturnal desires.
because I need to breathe is why
i kiss you as often as I do.
because I need to see is why
The sun says hello with a warmth
and sincerity she’s not felt in months.
He’s back now from the President’s war,
My Diana, just 18 months old and
full of energetic, boundless horizons...
I call to her, “Come here, Little Life.”
It was your warm lips that smiled and invited.
Good fortune had I, when into your
arms I alighted.
I have no answer, no solution, no absolution
if you will, to ease your loss, your yearning.
If only your heart was as easily closed as
the doors he slammed in your face.
She says such things to me...
My disbelieving ears wrestle
with her words...
Your spirit... a season that
blossomed in my heart.
My heart remembers...
Is there time to consider...
Are you that pleasant unknown?
Are you one of Frost’s roads
The water kettle beckons.
She gets my special mug
and nestles it next to hers.
My heart was wounded, but the cure finally arrived. I met a Navajo Girl, she of the Red Streak Into the Water Clan. She saved my life by giving me life. Now together, we have a new life joined with us. Our daughter Diana owns the world. We rent from her.)
I feel afraid when
the sea crashes
into my expectations...
My fears and doubts... they
ebb and flow, like the shore line
not too distant from me.
I’m still not certain
what to do, but the
need to do something,
anything, pulls me
away from the shore.
My ship goes to sea again this day.
I will keep the lighthouse in sight.
Just to be safe.