What Actually

My hope-soaked heart
Holds memories
It has danced
With two lovers of love
It’s Author and His beloved scribe
How it is so confounds me

Tending To Laundry

This morning I wondered
If Earth would be glad
It’s shirt smells of Rain
I’m prone to random thoughts

One finger
One string
Reminding one another
Of the singular sensation
Of being brushed
Over the edge

Tickle my foot
As it hangs off the edge
Of this new day before me
Go God

he hits the notes
he holds the pitch
his shoulders squared
his eyes certain
Mouth open wide

With smile soft
And hands that clasp
he’s listening for
A higher will
Than his own

Then he kneels

You said use imagination.
Please. You said.
It was [ik-sploh-siv].

Are you always this?
Are you always
Just
So
Electric?
I’m waiting in water.

Arms Up
back exposed
black and white
knock ’em dead
Rock Star

I want those long soaks
We don’t touch
We don’t speak
We just hold
And we talk
And our hearts
And our souls
Greet old friends

Painted with purpose
Sculpted stunning in His eyes
And formed not to fear