Your mystery should not scare me
Your torrent needlessly takes me
But as I observe your pure glee
It is pure awe that overtakes me.
Splashing at my exposed shins
And cleansing all my sympathy,
Your salty kisses sent as sprayed love
Hit me deep, into my very bones.
And your depth, so full of mystery,
Takes every last bit of my fantasy
To a region I could never see
Where gods conversed
And octopus traverse
And most everything else is lost
Into the abyss.
Into my ears did whistle harmony
Not of my mind or in my thoughts
But wind, easy wind to fill me up
With dear, sweet oxygen.
And to my friend I inhaled in
The deepest breaths I could bring
To fill my lungs so full, I smiled.
For my liberty was brought to me
So free my mind, so free my body,
So free my soul to float on to
A cloud, where I’m with you.
Sweet dirt, my soil;
Great bounty of life.
Breathing and heaving and turning delight.
You break down my blossoms
And decompose your own waste
To help nurture all life
Balanced, and full of bugs and worms.
Your kindness is forgiving,
Your consistency is staggering,
Your patience is humbling,
Your vitality encouraging.
Even your air is enlivening –
Quite literally in fact.
And if until forever I had
Betwixt my fingernails and toes
Your rich presence to look at
Your heart in my hand,
I’d forever be full
Of everything I’d ever need
Until the day at last did come
For me to join thee, forever free.
Large roots
Salal shoots
Needles and conifers of every size
Your heart laid there
Wrapped securely to an old oak tree
That had two initials carved deep.
Your heart was calm,
Reminding me of silent moments
I’d hold my breath for
Watching a little robin
Bounce about the clearing
In search of daily food.
And the midday sunlight
That lofted my thoughts
Towards an overused chair
And a cold beer to ease the pain
Of those two initials intent.
What a long, dusty road it becomes
As I snake my cool eyes towards limitless skies
And bull horns I’ve worn well
Emanate a toughness
I don’t want to carry anymore.
I don’t want a perfect you.
I don’t want an imagination
Resting on commercialized ideals
And mis-spent laments.
No.
I want your messiness and chaos
And moments that urk me,
And crazy eyes and silent times
And hugs that will never end
Because forever is a time
I will be left thinking of you.
And just maybe,
If I count my lucky stars enough,
I will be right there
Next to you,
Smiling,
Winding my clock backwards
Elongating time to expand
These moments that make up you.
I marked my diary with a black heart yesterday,
Signalling yet another loss of a piece of me
To a lancet, delicately embraced by a cadaverous hand
Tightly hemmed in mourning lace.
Upon my wrinkly pages I wrote of lament so thick
Leaves dropped freely in my eerie breeze,
And my nigh filled dipping pen
Opulently embarking upon saintly rites
Deep into the cold moon’s full embrace,
For this unsettled heart beat thick.
Where did all of the wild horses go?
When we walked through the tall greenscape grass
Was it wind blow my mind
Straight to your sweet design?
Sun in my eyes was just my good disguise.
Won’t you come see me tonight, sweet mystery?
Don’t leave me here with sun gone out now,
Keeps a crawling around just so.
I’ll be mighty hands on the run.
I’ll be summer’s midnight stars up so high,
Crickets crackling in our eyes.
Roll up our sleeves to a mid-summer’s breeze,
And let Cassanova be my midnight name;
When I’m left alone as the Phantom goes
And your heart is wrapped all up in thought.
So when midnight strikes me tattooed, too
I will roll up my unused bribes for another bride
Like a straightened arrow, to my moon I will go.
I believed just so strongly that you would be the one
So much so that I chairiscuro’d my heart into day and night,
Night and day.
So longing with my open arms I stood uninterested,
Drooping at edges of my sanity
That left holes so deeply imprinted into my unknown matter
I had successfully reprinted what I’d callously called
“Out of Stock.”
Now? Now I would like to re-brand my interests,
Remove all the old artifacts that so delicately had collected
Dusty particles of my memory,
And remind myself how little it mattered in the end –
Dust being all that could sprinkle our dearest dreams –
As raindrops came tumbling down upon a rainbow I’d ignited.
So my desert teardrops exclaimed to my heartbeat, strong,
Oh this desperado desolato,
In an anguish that I could not anticipate…
Because spring had not yet sprung.