Every Flower

Every flower I ever hold,
She seems to wilt;
Silhouettes in the dark laugh at dying
Roses sunflowers daisies.

But so far these tulips are alive and well;
one must tend his garden
Voltaire teaches us;
Then let me tend to mine.

This tulip will not wilt under my care,
She gets my finest water and brightest
Sunshine.

16 Tidbits For Curious Kittens-a new sonnet form

You asked me what I loved about today;
Seemed so strange at my dim lit desk,
I couldn't look back twelve hours any way,
because my room was a messy nest.
Curious kittens found at home,
Wrapped up in worn out jeans and band shirts,
Curling around my legs; they keep me alone,
As I occupy my mind with music and skirts.
Fantastic imagery, staying up way too late,
Looking for someone or something to blame,
But life after midnight feels so grate,
And damn its cool when you say my name.
But the question? What I loved, what could it be?
There are so many things I love that I could say:
(The way your hair falls, your eyes, smile) you and me,
Yes, we spoke like curious cats, that is what I loved about today.

That Detroit Sound

Is it heavy feed-back from a rusty guitar pick-up?
Or some squeaky factory line,
Way out towards Flint?
Dusting off old records,
Letting the needle murder the nighttime
silence,
Heavy and tinny, that Detroit sound
Still cuts me up and gets me moving,
Even during a freezing Ohio night.

I can only imagine how cold it is up north,
and if that Detroit sound feels as good
as it does down here.

Naked; Songs About Joy

Stop being so quiet, I know you can scream
I can see it behind those small features,
that quirky smile, those soft delicate eyes,
Swap out those fresh clean clothes
For some dirty old rags:
Yellow scarves yellow peacoat and
Yellow pumps navigating through the snow.

Let my hands explore your cheeks,
Warming your cold face,
Tussle your hair,
Just let me hold something,
One of your small hands perhaps,
As we lead each other on

Into a world of silliness and
Swing dancing in the breeze.

Sunflowers explode out of the ground where we will play.

your auburn locks are drowning

your auburn locks are drowning
me in a peachy aroma
(not peachy like the hip kids
mean when something is alright)
more the overwhelming smell that
draws hive after hive of bees to
a fresh spring orchard.

but escape, let the bees have their fruit,
as alone at an ocean peak i stand,
offended by the way the waves
explode against the sand;
something too violent(physical)
to be shared with something beautiful.

so i say, shall i muss up your auburn
hair (and have my fingers tasting
of the sugary sweet of peaches) ?
or
destroy the ocean walls (violent,
too harsh for tranquility)?

and i reason, i am too wanting of
tranquility,

(wait until high tide has passed my love
to tempt the seas)
So I lick clean my fingers,
delicious.

Street Spirit (to be read while listening to Radiohead's "Street Spirit (Fade Out)"

torn apart piece by piece,
we (fade out, fade out again)
we gasp until there is no air
left to swallow (fade out)
we push and pull at the
fragile morrow of life-like twigs,
snapping under careless feet
(fade out).

horrified of what we’ve become,
whispering over some obsessive
plucking tone, ringing low hums
in our ears (fade out).

we see something truly terrifying:
ourselves.

(fade out again)

Too Warm For My Favorite Peacoat

It is cold;
I’m enchanted that my navy blue peacoat
and knit scarf aren’t too much,
Because damn it I’ve been looking pretty good
in both.

Let’s twist and tangle,
Not for the desire, or the pleasure,
(because it’s too god damned cold)
to do anything other than make
heat(love).
Hold my hand and drag me there,
I’m still right behind you,
Shredding off layer after layer;
the coat the scarf everything.

Falling asleep, I am still enchanted,
but unable to whisper something
that needs to be screamed,
I hesitate, too tired from lovemaking.

can we be brave enough
to love?