Depart (day 2499)

Your mornings woke me every time
I didn’t know how to say goodbye
We shared love stories far apart
Just like the moon sings to each star

Can you call me on the telephone
Let me hear your voice in my ear
Though you’re standing always so near
You’re my moon I’m singing so softly to

I’m never shy as I hold your hand
Electricity from your heart in mine
There’s always warmth in your embrace
Stay beside me now, let us never depart

My Chin (day 2226)

A cheap drink rolled down my chin
As I lay motionless
Stuck in a window of thought
With a naked Lady hugging my shoulder
Purring softly with a story I’m not listening to.

My eyes remember a hot evening smell
Coming from the loins of love
When I licked what I wanted to
And kissed all the rest,
Passion I long ago learned to evoke
Just like my firm grip
Of the buttox of my lover.

Drawn back in with her heat, her arousal
By a finger drawing figures I’m left guessing about on my chest
I smell her hair, tucked beneath my chin
And remember the cigar I had smoked earlier
How it had lingered in my nostrils and danced with smoke
She looked at me and kissed the liquor from my chin
Whispering words I’ve love her for madly.

Moon at Midnight – Part XXXVIII (day 2012)

(part XXXVII)

We returned to the waterfall
Where I had told the scouts to go
And to bring Willow and Lily
I was happy to see them there
And the scouts had also found
Most of the other women and children
I took three of the older scouts with me
Tall Pine included
And we made our way back to the village
To assess everything.

When we arrived there
Our hearts sank
As they had the first time I saw the damage
Teepees tipped over and half burnt
Same fate for the smokehouses
We found two women killed
And one young scout killed
With a tomahawk in his hand
There were three other women mulling around
In a complete state of shock
But only minor injuries, bruises and cuts,
From trying to fight
Upon finding the state of things
I sent one of the scouts to the Waterfall
To bring everybody back.

We were relieved to see
Not much other damage had been done
I had come upon much worse before
But it’s never easy to see
Our hearts were sullen as we
Built platforms on the edge of the village
To place our dead people.

When that was done
We all began to try and piece together
The teepees and smokehouses
There was still lots of meat to be smoked
And we knew that the hunting party would return soon
Hoping we would need to smoke lots of meat.

That night I told Willow as we sat side by side
Around the fire that was burning
In the center of our village
What had happened when Tall Pine and I
Had tracked the men down
She sat silently as I told her
And put her arm around me when I was done
I could see a few of the other women
Were listening to the story
All of the scouts, too
Were straining their ears to listen
I made sure to embellish
The fearlessness that Tall Pine had shown.

part XXXIX

The Ruin (day 1742)

Empty pill bottles slammed into the rusty cages of my heart
Leading my hopelessness on a two part story,
Part 1: The Ruin
Part 2: The End.
I’m sympathetic to wasps that buzz around my head as I divert my pure thoughts,
Only had I known their tapping of my consciousness could harness heaven,
For I was scrubbing furiously with a wire brush
To scrape every last bit of rust from my hopes.

Mended Arrows (day 1667)

I’ve left out all my wiles
For a holiday in heaven,
A turn upon the road
To reach where my heart is still as still can be.

You, you were always forgiveness,
You were the mended arrow
A light beyond my vision
But illuminating my walk.

And how come I’ve been dreaming
Of a memory I’m believing
When I’ve got all of my stories
In a rucksack on my back.

There were twenty one good reasons
To hold onto the heathens
As they quickly walked on past
All in excitement and pure jubilee.

But you, you are plenty appealing
You hold me in good standing
And have brought me all my planning
That’s been brought out in the end.

So darling, reach out your good hand,
A wand of my believing,
To make my heart forever bleeding
As an arrow for your sweet light.

image

My Poem for You (day 1552)

My poem for you:

I lay with my hands held tight, pretending the story hasn’t been written. I make flasks of mine own elixir that I spill onto your skin so I can lick it up, drop by drop. I run my eyes into a dizzy frenzy knowing the confines of your nape as I do, remembering the past moments as I do, holding the abound bits of magical love between my thighs so tight I know the feeling of urge so deep I gasp uncontrolled at last. Then, upon my calmed finger I begin to gently prowl the exposed portions of your skin so I can know again the feeling of indulge.

Long Road (day 1501)

I feel I’m suffering alone.
I feel my eyes are closing off.
I think that there’s no way
I’ll live
To tell all of my stories
From this very long, long road.
Because it is a long, long road.

I had a hand in my own truth.
I had desire cutting deep.
I feel there was a moment
When all
I had to do was dream
Enter in this long, long road.
Because it is a long, long road.

I have never let go of emptiness.
I have held out my heart to sing out loud.
I had the chance to make
A life
With everything I dreamt
Along this very long, long road.
Because it is a long, long road.

I needed one too many paths.
I needed to let go of this I knew.
I have always believed
We are
Passionate indeed.
So we’re all a long, long road.
Because it is a long, long road.

My Illument Back (day 1158)

Should you have rolled me into that pixie white gown?
I laughed with the mariners first touch of ground.
Fire is a gentle nature and this is my bed,
Candles sing songs lingering on into eve.

You are the nature and I am the dreamer,
I am the weaver and you are my story.

My delicate folding showed my illument back,
Stark in this darkness which I escaped into dreams.
Your seaman’s hoarseness upon my plumped, splayed curls,
Changing hands with a thousand dusting fairies.

You are the nature and I am the dreamer,
I am the weaver and you are my story.

And this morning dew and fog brings adieu,
Seaman cold thunderstorm, restless I blow the wind.
Boots go away knocking: your only whispers I can hear.
Untying knots and a lover’s foreign spices.