Keys

Looking for love like
plucking aces blindly.
But maybe she’s got it.
I’d politely offer my services,
but I’m too civil and her
batting eyelashes are
sending me Morse code.
This hypothetical view
is more of singing the blues
under my breath, and I
think she hears.
At this point though
dots and dashes blur to
prefixed protocol
demanding that I not proceed.
It’s all in the code.

Rhetorical (II)

Now applying hindsight, the
     tension
          building


(being a constant)
left a burn.
Some like it hot.
Apply liberally to me.

Rhetorical (I)

Artistic by nature.
My lines look more like
broken pick-ups tied, equally transparent as
any attempts to play it cool.
You can see my eyes, even clutch contact.
But we don’t ask, mustn’t ask.
Hold any inventive expression
on the tips of my fingers, ready
to pose every roadblock I
can fathom, because I want to make
this hard. But I won’t ask. I can’t.

Carry On

My little piano, I’m wide-eyed;
jaw still on the floor.
I refuse to count lessons learned because
lille venn, every song ends.
But I’ll carry your tune with me.

Daylong

I’ll admit I was selfish.
Wanting to keep every second,
every everything
I could grapple head/hands/heart around.
At the time it wasn’t much:
daylong silence and
overdone thoughts.
And just like everyone else
I blamed myself at
every available corner and
cried my pre-dried eyes to drought.


And I’ll admit I wasn’t there to
say my goodbyes, fully or tangibly.
But I swear to a god I’m not sure
I want that I tried. I swear by
more than I own and more than
I’m told. Dirty bird, you know that I swear.
And although these days I maintain
dry eyes, I finally found you.

Every Book

Sessions in my mouth
slowly turned to ashen words:
stained my tongue.
I’ll speak as though I’m not
spewing soot into every
vacant cavity I come across.
And then there was you.
Gaping, you stood.
Taking the brunt of my senseless
stream of discontinuous drivel.
For reasons I’ll never know,
keeping mouth open wide. Almost
saw down to where a spine
should reside, but I stopped short
of intrusive. Maybe my
infected dialect found pity halfway;
maybe a plural pronoun
best suited for sporadic use.
Meanings mostly loitered.
We vanquished. Vanished.
I’m waking up alone.

Pomp

Drawing blanks to conserve ink.
I salvage each page
until mind’s circles are more like
vinyl.
Think not of my disproportioned
dissertation, instead
think of the sea…
Spinning out of control.
We’re all underwater, and
you’re just noticing now.
Sea foam shades on lilac escapades.
I see you calculating;
there may be more at stake
than initially esteemed.

Sparkle (Pt. II)

Thaw aside, I seem to have
room for only one
dislocated jaw in mind
and this time, it isn’t mine.
Is that even allowed?
The past is leading me on
,and oh,
Honey Bee,
I’ll devour your intentions.
Forever sweet little methinks.

Ravenous Race

My sight was first with
vision coming in a close
second glance at a possible
third chance to steal you back.
Lust was in last at this point,
just shooting from the hip.
But hot damn,
what a shot he’s got.

Thinking too Hard

First thought was to
let the wind guide leaves
back to respective trees;
second was to swing solely
to miss by a long shot;
third hollowed my mind
leaving thoughts empty and
deprived, and
now we both know to
hold tight to the moon
because, doggone Maker,
we’ll be meeting you soon.