Love

Be my Witch

You must be my Witch In the day, you are as plain as day I think you don’t see me Maybe you think I don’t see you but I am good at eyes Always in your greys and tans and flats Shiny swinging hair Bottle goggles to discourage the shallow You glow from the feathers […]

More

Rewind

Drawn to baby anythingsshe isSeeks to protectto nurtureBut if the thing growsand gains stubborn volitionthen on she must moveto find another small oneto teachto loveto know the duality of joyandtake tearful vengeanceon an old giant

More

Temptress

A still pondpadded with liliesdappled with netted sunCicada humMy green restPlease-pocket the stoneand let it alone-I’ll paint youas someone sepiaand fleetingby this bower’s dome

More

Unrequited

I fear I would be shyif you were to speak to me.I know.It’s not a good look.But I’m imprinted with your face.I know.Creepy, I imagine you think.Each mannerism, each quirky movement,tells a tantalizing storythat I am meant to understand.I am sure of it.Yes, I am.

More

Out of our heads!

Nights at the round table!Spouts of hot teasloshed into cups of tiny china.Cards and clinking glasses,glinting toothy smiles!One nods offafter too many Jameson’s.Piggyback up the stairs,unfold him into bed, hah!Open a window, will you?What, tired already?It’s only two!

More

No regrets

I would tellwhat percolates within me,but it’s not grand enoughfor a pauper’s poem.The thing that rises from the breast,reddening the earsand brewing these tears.But I stay shut,and quit of speech.Held in the sway of regret,but warmed by your aureole.It is enough.

More

Butterfly

When you look at me, sometimes it’s very odd. I feel as if you are seeing something that I don’t yet know. Figuring the future. Got it down pat. But I don’t want to know, unless you show me. When I look at you, I wish your flurry of flights would end. Stay. We’ll share […]

More

Twitter

Here is a Book of Faces of a nobler sort. Each one (that can be seen), beautiful in some way. If we but read between the lines, we can divine their colours. So many are umbral now, I fear. But I am fatalistic, cynical. I hope I am wrong, when I cry for the ones […]

More