I reach out a
bright, big, bug-eyed hand to the
World,
whose grasp reflects intense, childlike candor
...
I dip my feather pen into you,
ink bottle of inspiration,
as I dip my tongue into you
your perspiration,
...
Happiness is a ballpoint pen
Happiness is irrelevant
Happiness is
...
love-hungry teenage boy ripe
for the fruit of the world, yearning
for a taste of satisfaction, you buckle your
knees at every passing vine and fall to the earth
...
The scent of rain makes me feel like
getting nothing done - just lying all day on my goose feather bed
with pen in hand and the soft rumble at my sill -
...
Amidst a raucous background, I blend myself
with the noise
as a chameleon does.
I crawl through pulsing colors on painted walls,
...
gentle sands falling
silently through my fingertips,
blowing dandelion style in the
swaying
...
Mother told me she was writing, she
grinned and read enthusiastically from her
notepad, “Love is like a bird, love is who you
are, ” and I cringed into a smile, loving
...
Black converse, green converse,
vintage.
We three are strung together by
the shoelaces in our hearts
...