Sagittarius Moon

star-crossed star-sign love.
red mercury rising down,
it will snow tonight.

Cougar Town

I want you because you smell like vanilla and innocence
and mine was taken without permission.
before I had a voice.
before I knew how to measure either
to bake the perfect batch of sugar cookies.

Puttin Out

i am just going to put this out there now
to make midnight blush
and turtle babies crack their way to the sea

here it is:

children puffing pollen air bound in spring, empty stem in hand
ice cream dripping down chins and thighs on hot summer nights
lovers making just that in public where only a few can see,
(i know i watch)

remembering paris beyond the architecture, art in the people
harlots with sad eyes lit red, with a glimmer of blue hope

end or beginning.

Colorado

The sunflowers have frosted over and it smells like snow. I did not go back for a coat. Once I close a door, I do not reopen it.

Flowers

Sometimes it's amazing, the things we call weeds. blemish, spot, curse, scourge, (even minor imperfection) we cast aside veins and ribs, doubt worth: an ant's journey, carrying a wounder warrior home on its back across a discarded leaf. and in the blossoms bees massage nectar and whether rose or dandelion, the only difference: flavor there's nutrition in dandelion just the same. and while less sweet, there would be no balance without savory. so my friendly weeds, i celebrate you with tender consideration of your rung in the at once gentle and violent organic process known as life.

The Bottom

"My melancholy was gold dust in your hands" -Alfonsina Storni

If there is only one way to go from here,
Can someone point me?
I think I am lost...

left and right aren't working
and the ground is too solid
my fingernails
too soiled
to dig any deeper.

i know there is a fifth direction around here, somewhere
another way this can go...

and while I am resolute in stillness
listening for a clue
keeping my nostrils open to smell
that pie in the sky

well, the shape of it is all muddy, murky
and monstrously cold.

no matter

i remember spring
soft baby birds with their gray-peach fuzz chirp...
the tender buds crystallized against mourning's do.

so i will get there,
wherever that fifth direction is,
because one season always follows another.

The Rock Star’s Son

Sitting on the dock of the bed,
The wind contains me from your open French doors
(the opposite of my fire)

Next to you, Picture windows framed above
Free against the Colorado night sky...
Starry mountain high

We shake our butts nature nude
Skin on skin
Rustling Aspens just starting to Crisp
A musical soundtrack for our giggles
And the lottery we’ve supposedly won
Though

I still question if I could be enough
Or if you are
Or if or if or if...

We pass out.
And despite myself, I dream
( you are conspicuously missing,
though your hand rests gently on my thigh)

Instead, I am soaring through those trees
Above it all and onto the night sky

Like a Chagall Angel

Ready to blow a trumpet, blast it loud
Charging Gabriel
So strong Michael drops his sword
And Azrael wakes the dead.

I look back at you, us
Sleeping

And crave that slumber
Crave what is to come

So I climb back into my skin
With hope for a me, honest to me
For once.