Unapologetic
Today Marianne's jeans fit tight. Reflected on the bedroom mirror Her rounded face announces A waxing moon Her swollen figure rising waters Plump transmutation of phases Compels time for curves Unapologetic Aphrodite above Smiles like cotton candy Remembering the soft babble Of Marianne's natal baby talk A young brook in her throat When Taurus in the horizon Oceans will wash over generous Convex skin to be embellished In foamy fur From thighs to hips Up the buxom breast Around a...

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Home Element
His hands should feel like home Familiar as fresh morning coffee Otherwise I couldn't even imagine Steaming cups terrenal Espresso lust and mocha, Dribbling down the corners of our lips. And if our grounds were too alien I'd lose my way to such skin Because when a calm moons linger silent In his stoic eyes constricted His old beam permeates my phantom clouds Troubled from vapors Imprisoned in my mind. We may be two versions of the same As he...

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Lifeline
Lately, I’ve pondered. Looking out this lighthouse, the one we never considered stopping at. Your boat cannot get close enough, it seems lost amongst the peaks of heaving challenge, dipping in a yes, swaying in a no. The beacon keeps doing the rounds, shedding light over these restless oceans of epochs. You know well it hasn’t deceived us completely, we always knew. There is strength beyond our means, stirring under the waves and yet, we pretended to navigate by the...

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Prayer
I need Grace from the universe Miracles Strength under my feet Electric breath pushing upward. A new gift from the whole of it A token A pass Gateway to abundance Incoming tide on my barren bank. River of heaven I look up and plead from under Drench my porous faith Where broken stone invaded naive pebbles. Nourish me Ripple in organic microcosms Bustling of minerals pervade the dryness, My skin to awaken This body to engage. Retreat and leave me...

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Song Spirit
My song spirit of past days delivers appropriate comment. Thoughts trigger melodies ongoing in the city airs, uploaded into particles invisible, that he knows well how to catch. Quick, he throws in the right phrase. Masterful in the art of capturing exact moments, almost a machine, he recovers musings leftover from sleep, memories believed to be forgotten, old coats hung in the cloakrooms of the past. He lives by day and when night falls, keeps to himself, as we observe...

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