presages de printempsin the sparkle-sound of rainI hear your voiceas the day-crows returnbickeringto tangled nests
Bill's spleenBills spleenI hold my face in two hands.Yes, Im crying.I hold my ugly face in two handsto keep my eyes closed.Two hands protecting,two hands preventing,two hands soothingmy soul from leaving me in anger.I hold my face in two hands,just in your two hands.
Iceboundmore infinite thanspace are memories madeblind in moonlightmoon-caressed watertrembles beneath the touch ofdawn's first breathcold morningcamouflage of ice,the waves' sigha flourishof snow cradles dawn,the ice solidifiesone hesitant stepleads a man's wanderlust thoughtsto something lostharsh sunlight echoesupon the waters shore. herbreath lingers no more.
unworthy.You: A vast oceanslipping between my fingers.I: A tap, leaking.
Tiger Tiger You are a tigerwhich sharpens its shiny clawson my deeply scarred heart.
Still Married to My WorkWaxing poeticOn a man who'll never know.How pedestrian.He's interesting,Not quite so ordinaryAs the dull others.Tender and loyal,Brave, strong, and gentle;Above all, patient.Unfazed by my quirks,Steady under all pressures-The heart to my brain.Hair short, soft,Blonde, though graying with age.Trusting deep blue eyes.Finely built form,Corded muscle, taut tendons;So damaged, yet whole.A small ladies' man,Far too stubbornly straightFor his (my) own good.You should know I amStill married to my work.... I want a divorce.
Please add more wood to this fireI've come to grow warmthto bring a smile to you alllater it became more apparentthat this light is still too dimI leave you with a simple kiss