For today,
the grapes are green,
sweet, and plenty.
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I stand, I reach, I yearn,
I bellow, and finally I live.
What do you do?
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Hysteria –
it's an acquired taste.
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It's all about fantasies
and deadwood –
chopping up useless thoughts...
clearing room to dream.
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* She spoke
in exclamations
now that she found
her voice.
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We must play all the keys,
seek the tunes only we can hear,
and deliver them to those
outside our box.
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How delightfully rich
is one's mind,
when doused in hope
and left overnight to seed.
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Today will be joyous,
for the beauty slamming against my face
is unwilling to be ignored.
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We had a HUGE laugh like the old days.
It was on the tip of my tongue, exposed just enough
for her to "get" it before it ever left my mouth.
|
The day came when every morsel craved
was placed passionately upon her tongue,
and she felt deserving enough to swallow.
|
Even as an "adult,"
he refused to shut down the playhouse
and clear out the toys.
Joy Boy.
|
Our legs sometimes thread across one another's laps,
and whenever possible we indulge in a twisted neck embrace.
Then all bound up, the two of us sit beside the point,
creating exceptions to the rules.
|
You remember for me our innocence.
|
Present yourself –
as though you were a gift.
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What can I say but I'm working on it,
all of it – everything in its entirety; I've left
nothing out. I can't say when it'll be complete,
only that I'll not cease until it's longer, rounder,
tighter...and with a little more red.
|
Our stress modules were intended only for liftoff,
not to be worn, adorned, reinforced,
or multiplied like the debilitating fuselage
we've come to tow.
|
 |
He'd always looked,
but when he
looked this time
he had bloomed…
finally reaching
his point of purpose.
It was without a doubt
the brightest
year of his life.
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