A Poem A Day, Poem #30

you are a bird singing, like a song lilting
away the hours with the brutality of a brilliant
heartbreak in the dreary distance
and that fading sound is the prettiest of pains, waiting
for uprisings and new deliriums to deliver--like
your lovely body curving a little repose around
the slowest drips of a dream

and how do you feed me this music after time
has so inelegantly tumbled down those achy
dust traps of memory tripping on the rusty wires
of the throat, choking on the most forgetfullest
little fingers pressing lips for kisses,

and how do these hums hover like some ghosts
of hands brushing away a tickle of your hair?

(and a laugh and a cry falls out of a song and we
watch it dance until the light inside it fades away
into a wonderful wee withering)

A Poem A Day, Poem #29

when you somewhere speak there is an air that
surrounds us like the branches of some remember
tree where the leaves might as well be pages blowing
away the words we once spoke when we were younger and
stupider, but happier hanging onto the brightest starshine
from the kisses floating in our eyes

and what value do we apply to these cloudy comedies of
a kiss where we taste some rain years later, caught--
everything ascending into spring--when we are wise and old
and reflecting on the gauzy wash that memories make when
you count the veins of this tree's leaves with those
slightly dumber fingers touching these tired lips for the
last time--
combing through the sand of words--
counting kisses--

A Poem A Day, Poem #28

what more can I spend on sunlit dreaminess,
on slightly dripping journeys through the
old vibrations of a kiss and the words that lay
lips on the ears like a blanket on a cloud, soaking
up all the skin's rain with restlessness and
day-old reminders of tiredness and shadows
playing hands with the children we were, the
children we are when we travel together again
to that place we planted our flower and pretended
to watch it grow, is it blooming? has it survived?
do our dreams themselves dream? do the characters
we play remember to cultivate our memories with
water and wishes and tiptoe kiss-squishing stars
where our barehanded breathing makes better
buried heads

A Poem A Day, Poem #27

it's spring and the soft light that surrounds you here
in these heart places i have formed around those
soft bird-like memories are chirping away at the
clouds for radiances to share with the angels in
your hair, with the gods of memory tripping over
the roots of the trees that we have planted in our
bellies for later rainbows, for somewhere silences
where time is forgetful and we are still young and
in love

A Poem A Day, Poem #26

she is dressed for poetry hands like some
angels had caressed her body with especially
soft fingers leaking down her dress until
knees are barely exposed, mockingly elegant
with peek-a-boos
and the air between is where mysteries--beneath
the skirt--make thoughts wander, and the legs
that stretch from the secrets told by her thighs
are only stifles of word sounds trying to assign
some formula to those meaningfuls she makes
in my mind
and heart songs are not nearly as lyrical as her
feet, moving mindfully like her toes were
untouchable things, digits for dancing,
places to start the climb up for finding the
freedom of femininity that men can not describe
without chisels and lines, words or angels

A Poem A Day, Poem #25

the spring can be a sorrowful thing with
the music of the birds dancing in cloud
shadows, the speckled sun receding into
rain and opening yellows again onto
the happier side of the world,

and we are slow to answer this call to
joy, but we are quick with hands and feet
and bedroom silences that equal something
greater than seasons can understand, but
when the blooms awaken and the eyes of the
flowers see us for the first time, then there
is a dancing that remembers all those warmths
that were forgotten while the skin was hiding
beneath the sleep of winter, and our kiss was
the only light we'd seen

A Poem A Day, Poem #24

the veil of morning lifts the dewy earth awake
for the birds to sing sweeter than sleep and life
is arranging itself carefully for a soft landing
on day
and you are still away somewhere dreaming of
unknown things, and the meticulous mechanizing
of minds won't let me pull the covers from those
places where sleep hides your secrets or else i
would slide some kiss into your mouthful of moons
                and we could be together somewhere never
                tethered by couldn't's or shouldn't's
                always morningful, singing

A Poem A Day, Poem #23

there is a touch somewhere i have not found,
a finger or a hand so plush and perfect that
silence knows no sound could interrupt its
rested, rhythmless unsong,
                                               but it is a hiding
touch, a place away, dreaming in the dark places
we don't look when we kiss, waiting in the
softest regions of the clouds we can't reach
when we slide our waters into lovemaking

and those creatures that climb the mind,
the muses that pull the flutes from the
worlds you make in me when we search
for the secrets that sex whispers when the
steam rises toward all the unknown stories we tell
in our future sleep, there is still a touch holding
some unspeakable sweetness for me to taste in
the shadow of a clumsy cup of moon

A Poem A Day, Poem #22

(This is essentially the same poem presented in two different forms. I couldn't decide which one to post, so I decided to post both of them.)

1.

once during someday dreams so dizzy that mazes fell
like mind-drops when my thoughts drew momentary
circles of those places i might live inside you and

these pictures have been hiding eternally across my
memory with mirrors of meanings that move these
immeasurable makeshift movies into being when you are
near
and those me-places that you embody are the muses of
some miraculous poems come undone long enough for me
to touch their myths with mindful hands

and those places cast a frosty moonlight that falls on her breath
like the cosmos were making snowdrops from the startling
kisses she spreads across my mouth laying lulls and lightly
hands over the stars to shut their bright eyes with shushsongs
descending into the softest sides of sleep that mostly children
know and other stars only shine to remember in dreams where
the sound of her most passionate kissbreaths lay me softly down
in this stuttering snow that falls like an angel shaking a child
from the stars,
descending into the dust of deeper countries, diving into
deliverance

2.

once during someday dreams so dizzy with mind-drops
that the heart stops to wonder: where are those places that
i live inside you?

do they cast a frosty moonlight that falls from your breath
like the cosmos were concocting snowdrops from the startling
kisses you slip over my mouth,
                                                         laying lulls and lightly
hands over the stars to shut their bright eyes with shushsongs
descending into the softer sides of sleep that mostly children
know and stars only shine to remember in dreams

are these the places where the sound of her most passionate
kissbreaths lay me softly down in this stuttering snow that
falls like an angel shaking a child from the stars,
descending into the dust of deeper countries,
diving into deliverance,
waiting to touch the you-places that live inside me

A Poem A Day, Poem #21

what do i know about roses?
but the mind makes softness from
the red light of your hands, like
petals anywhere descending onto
a drip of a dream
like tendrils tumbling in the pouring
rain

what do i know of your water?
but that it tastes like the rain
when the summer slumbers into
fall and the color of the world
changes into a song made thirsty
by your orange absence

A Poem A Day, Poem #20

you hide in heaps of consciousness caves
where the darkness drives delusions of yesterday
kisses and shines lights from the tiniest touch of
your tired eyes,
                           the shine of a smile that still quiets
all the turmoil inside this tangle of time like a bloom
were to find some warmth in the slowly fingers of your
nowhere hands,
                           and you still soothe my body even in this
dying, even with somewhere memories, you still hold my
heart above the mediocrity of morbidity, keep my soul
afloat in the absent air of godlessness

A Poem A Day, Poem #19

she whispers loudest as the languishing seasons
sink into change, when the air swirls new directions
like gusts of guesses, her voice slides by my flesh
with secrets and name-breaths, and there is no voice
like a remembered voice when love was new and ever-
changing, like flower rising, like leaf falling, like snow
descending, like the soothing of cool water from the shuffling
of hot sands
she is a question constantly unanswerable and a place i can
never fully reach with my hands, but she tells me love stories
in my sleep, and there are trees still standing somewhere that
hold our roots in its lovely unraveling fingers, all of our love,
and it holds it there for us, quietly, for remembering, careful not
to disturb the hair's breath of birds

A Poem A Day, Poem #18

it was cold,
waiting for you,
a piano plays--somewhere
--like a vibration that massaged
me in a manic fray of slurred dew,
where dreams lay on top
of misery like a melody
coming alive inside the heart
--like a rhythm were
absent from the memory
--like a dream were
coming undone before you ever
spent it on sleep
(where do they go--these dreams we sell to sleep?)

A Poem A Day, Poem #17

you stretch those legs out like pulling flutes
from underneath a low sung lullaby where
a chorus of mother hands collapse on my
head with playfully fingers drizzling yesterdays
and dewdreams to confuse the color of incredible
that quietly opens up a pouring frenzy of thighs pressing
into hips where rhythm meets the secrets of your song's
vibration and the heart meets the bleeding scream of
the rain when the brain breathes a little bang-up delusion
draining from the body like a moving were shining inside
me spreading out like a symphony of a sunshine tsunami
crashing into strawberry-lips seething under the surface of
this sweet storming somewhere sound that like mist eases
weightless water on me

A Poem A Day, Poem #16

your hands part the waters of my memory
like carving miracles into soggy sand and the
waves that leave broken pictures of your eyes
shine ethereal echoes, like momentarily melodies,
where new puddles lay like lazy drops of orange
dreams to rain down your deliciously drooping lips
where there is only one thing that whispers louder
than well intended kiss-wishes and it speaks in
audible ebbs of ecstatic inflatable breathing, over
and over again, with the rhythm of the water washing
wake-ups from the periphery of this drenched, and sun
dappled daydream like a slow loop of some simply
serious song were saying:
                                        i can't get you off my mind-
                                        i can't get you off my mind-

A Poem A Day, Poem #15

you are a breeze that burns me when i breathe
a memory or a moment blown by like a brittle
song reminding the trees of little whispers we
used to ease out of one another with kisses that
cause deep down lurches in the lungs like a spark
wrapping its beautiful blue glow around the tongue

and those touchings that fall and fumble from the
meanings of hands like something were defining the
lights of the heavenly stars to brighten up this old
city of me where alone waits for dreams, prays for
forgetting that hollow ache you carve within me
every time i see your blown hair caught in
effortlessly happy lips, your fingers pulling it out
like some silky song were buzzing in my brain, contriving
brutal pieces to press against me before sleep washes
over me with new wishes, new winds whistling where
words won't go

A Poem A Day, Poem #14

sometimes i hear you coming with whatnot
words,
feel you with neednot hands,
succumb to your trembling with nevernot kissings
while water spills out flesh on flowerbeds where there
is no desire like a love on fire
                                                and there is no hour when
passion shatters all these impossibly pieces, splattering
alwayses like two bodies coming unfolded in the puddles
of our flowerfired air blowing brilliant billowing
breathe-nots at our wonderfully wasted wantnots

A Poem A Day, Poem #13

spring is an unclumsy awake hand
that shakes the dust from the heart
with a burst of rain that pours forth
wishes and daydreams like sleep
were an always thing blooming inside
the heart, spreading those rose petal walls to
drink its birdsong up like kissing a
girl for the first time nervous in the
dark just before the light comes up on
a little love shaking on those lovely limbs
of uncertain leaves

and the newborn bounce begins to breathe
shivers and burstbellybutterflies up and
down all those delicate pieces of flower
that she plays finger by fumbling finger,
counting each new word like a secret were
whispering her name in that wind that splashes
the face like shining water climbing across a
smile for a stuttering sparkling of stars teetering
on a stillness deep on the inside of sky
dreams and sleepy stems of cotton seeds
caught for later lay down days when the
rain dries on lips and mouths drown in the
dust of no new rhyming love to peel those
places in the heart where wings are birds
and whisperings are only echoes of
remembering first time touches and
startling kid kisses

A Poem A Day, Poem #12

what was it in your eyes that sent me diving
into the water of way gone days, like puzzles
coming together in the heart, like blood collecting
pools in the gut for sick-making love
and i knew that i had to steal you with thief-slick
hands from the brilliant light that held you away
from me, like a breeze blowing a butterfly away
from its flower, caught between the shadows of
life and the shine of a thousand rainbows waiting
to glide in some sun sliding after the rain that wakes
you from a slightly softer whisper than sleep and
finding you fallen from dreaming into my arms
for a little milk of flesh stirring flesh and
honey-dropping-mouth-tastefullys like a kiss
resting on the clumsy continuum of the cascading
curtains of your hair, waiting for me to touch it again
with a tickle to the face, a torch on the spine,
just to breathe its air again,
just to hear it come inside me like a clumsy crook one
more time,
stealing me under water for crimes and soft collisions,
holding my quiet body under the deep down and dirty
noise of god

A Poem A Day, Poem #11

i can hear her rain
on me with her whispers
of fingers

i can feel the sky streams
dripdropping some melodious
miracles as her hands clutch
deeply--
my hair

and the mayhem left like
mixing milk and flesh is
a crashing so thundered
as to open doors to dreams
after a little drowsy diving
into the deep sex of these
downpours

A Poem A Day, Poem #10

she's got a thing, an elegantly broken thing,
a pose of swirling chaos when she spins a
flight of fingers through her thick hands of hair,
and when the lights lay like a sleeping shush
where drowsy deludes into dreams where those
somber strands fall all down from the open
windows of sky climbing where beds are clouds
and blue is the water we drink in this cool clumsy
daydream,
and she shakes gold from her shoulders like
growing a new glowing where flutes fly like
music mesmerized by the breeze she blows when
she stumbles to snag so simply on a breathing,
and a bird sings somewhere about the
delicate branches of her arms which wrap the
world up like a neat little box called bliss where
she blows bright blind spots all over new painted
nature with the air somewhere far off plotting a
whispering campaign against the colors she
concocts every time she collides with the clues
she provides when she shines so simply with
effortlessly hands concealing eternity like a
smile that hides the mouth from a kiss

A Poem A Day, Poem #9

of all those places you so frequently visit
within me, the afternoon light best reflects
a none too subtle magnificence of memory
with its effortless recklessness to shout a
shine on how bright and beautiful you are
when you make mouth movements like
climbing onto lakes of lips where conundrums
and kaleidoscopes come undone to spill on
some heart stirring or kiss making touches
into love puddles where the sun's brightest
whiteness will protect our perfectly puzzled
bodies ashine with sparks and silences,
sensations and stupefying sex creations,
stumbling onto the stilted stars,
colliding into the curiosity of clouds

A Poem A Day, Poem #8

do you hear she loves you?
(a bird flies by, its wings a fluttering
song that skip the heart like a stone
skimming the waters she wears like
happening a hesitation death, awash
with chaotic kissing)
do you hear yourself loving her back
with your voice?

your hands?
your lips?