She is streamers
She is stars
She is the red that sustains Mars
Bars don’t exist
On her heart
She is steadfast
She is dangling
She is silver-Mediterranean
Alien and best friend
Alike
She is words
She is breath
She is life seducing death
Express your intent
So to stay
She is present
She is feathers
She is coppery hot weather
Whether you like that
Or not
Canine king, find me, follow me
Whether dinnertime or downtime
Hot breath on my heels
Chops pressed ‘gainst my calf
Clickety-clacking claws, be unwilling to leave me be
Guard my steps, as I’m prone to frolic with frogs
Looking in wrong places for princes
No sixth-sense nonsense, your love
To feel average again
Shuffling, schlepping
Commonplace companionship
Shopping for cozy and sundries
Is all I rage against
I’ve stepped onto some tundra
Passion, as Venus, accompanies me
Silver runs through my veins
Kisses while troublemaking
Too much sweetness to turn back
There are low moments
They become me, though
I look fine in such transition time
Intercepting the unsuspecting dark
Catch my breath then find the zone
Wanting to look
More deep into her eyes
Wanting this thing
More than breathing
Wanting to calm
What stutter-stops his voice
Wanting to know
What does he want
Enter into conversation
She will be your song
Enter into understanding
He will prove myth wrong
What if my blink lasts an extra beat more
Unintended, I cannot explain
What if while this, my inhale I implore
Is reality seeking to feign?
Gravity, come, take your match by the hand
Ether has waited for this
Fluttering eyes, staccato breath
So much words culminate in a kiss
The thief has arrived, long in advance, and the theft has already begun
The all-too-familiar strategy…make them concede before sunrise
Their sleep, their breath, the hope for warmth today
NOW comes this, as it has, since before the beginning of time
The River Continuum -a respite, of sorts…a shimmering place, just for peace
Inhale the heat, take back the Now that is here
…and so I needed
a creature that breathed odd air.
And are you not it.
The walls won’t demur
And the gardens must concede
I caused truth with them
Art Credit: Tiger R.; Age 8
The lull of my breath
My sometimes staccato-cry
Devilish details
What if an angel is all that you were made to be
A guardian with no human arms in the ever of time to guard you
A servant among an army of servants, hosting the faint and heartsick
A consecrated one, bringing stranded souls back together
What if God’s breath is the all you were made to be
