glide

body mangled

by the gears and grinds

of sunrise to sunset

body consoled

in the night-song glow

of melodious moonlight

planning to leave

this body behind

on the next breeze-flight

soul undressed

of its soft skin suit

takes glide on the light

strap of a crimson dress

finger

touches neck

and slowly

moves to the right

strap of a

crimson dress

slides off a

shoulder

one gradual

whisper

acknowledges

tone

moon

     and breeze

                  curtains

                sway

       touches

              move

  slow

ly

charge me with

trespassing

and let them

take me away

but do not ban me

forever

from your heart

little skirt

it took her a while

to pick it out

and it would have

looked great on her

we just didn’t

make it that far

into the night

agape

love is patient -

  she waits for me like a

  mistress in a getaway car

  her foot on the pedal

  her lovely mouth agape

  she wants to kiss

  she wants to fuck

  she wants to steal me

  from the night

love is kind -

  kind of crazy, these

  random games we play

  she pretends to be Eve

  offering the apple

  i tell her

  sin is cliché

  and i am not afraid

  of anything forbidden

through the pines

goodbye to Sunday

and its musty mood

  now a puddle at my feet

piles of mulch that have

floated from the hedge rows

leave the aphids

and the spittlebugs

scurrying naked in

the landscape

through the pines

  like a laser through the

  eye of a needle

comes a thin stream of

sunlight

  a reminder of its strength

a gust blows the pines

and the streams come

abundantly

  from all angles

  from all directions

the beauty is overwhelming

silence on snow

Soon they will fall

the words of our storms

that gathered in puddles

drowning us out

soon they will fall

the words that dried

and left in separations

floating on the wind

soon they will fall

the words that froze

in altitudes above us

dead to speech

soon they will fall

as light as forgiveness

as white as the innocence

of silence on snow

perfect skin

her skin would be perfect

i’m sure of it

her lips would be ready

and so slightly parted

she would breathe unevenly

she would try to keep calm

but it would catch her

smash her in a sudden grasp

her eyes would widen

i’m sure that her hair

would fall into tangles

across her pretty face and

  she wouldn’t care

her arms would fall limp

then contract for a purpose

then fall limp again

her waist would squirm

her skin would be perfect

her mouth would open up

and her tongue would inflate

then flatten then curl

her eyes would look at me

then into me

then grab me

and i would run with them

as her doors slammed shut

her flood gates would open

her perfect skin constricted

her lips clenched upon me

and her hair in wild tangles

i would be an amalgamate

of love and lust on

her perfect skin as

her doors slammed shut

reduction

the wind is getting

aggressive

but the walls are

holding steady

i extend a hand

to help a neighbor

only to have it

slapped away

its time to

reduce my living;

  i prefer a peaceful calm,

  a fallen feather’s float

its time to open up the

interior doors

and give in to the

secluded silence

pleasing the muse

midnight whispers

the alluring songs

of sleep

but words commingle,

from here and there

they join

the beginnings of

a poem shout the

whispering away

i take to the task

and please the muse

  who wryly smiles

  at the abuse

promise to an old poem

an old poem,

  a dying body

suffering the inevitable

coming of its time

these cancerous flecks

these silver streaks

and colors of life

fading from every word

lines that have

served their purpose

but have not aged well,

  they too succumb

you will not leave here

forgotten

my precious friend,

i am here as savior

to write you anew

a poem in night’s

  wasteful lull

a poem in lust’s

  eager confession

a poem for the faults

  and merits of men

  and women,

poems of reason

  or excuse

in these to come

you will live on,

i promise you this

in earnest

lest you disappear

from that page

without knowing

guardrails

safety in your arms

  when traffic is

  heavy in the head

  and all lanes are

  merging, clogging

safety in your arms

  when thoughts are

  erratic, frenzied

  out of control

  and crashing

safety in your arms

  drifting in directions

  headed for trouble

  blinded by darkness

  or distraction

safety in your arms

  pulling me aside

  holding me close

  providing respite from

  ever changing chaos

senses forbidden / exist as blend / naught made climax