The Young

There she was,
bouncing along
holding her mother's hand.

Too young to know
her ginger hair
would make her a target
for pranksters and predators.

Not yet troubled
by her arse being too big,
her thighs chubby.

How beautiful she was
with her careless skip.
How I wished to share -
to remember freedom.

Sunrise

sometime during the night
rain begins to gather

in misty sheets
wrap trees in gossamer halos

drift in starlit mantles
to cover the grass

cast a grey veil over strangers
wandering home from unknown nightlives

Mercury slides down the barometer
like a stripper down her pole

you cuddle behind me
like a blanket of sunbeams

and we watch the sun
burn darkness from the sky

I wanna tell people
I can only see with one eye,

before they ask,
what's wrong with your eyes.

Before they look over their shoulder
to see who I'm talking to.

I watch people all the time -
girls who no one will ever
write a poem about,

and wonder how they get
through each day.

How they live with
being less than perfect.

Duality

In this vegetative state
you are more masculine territory,
while I am sweet grass,
wide awake, and scintillating
with morning dew.

Your behemoth slumber
is gargantuan peace
while I digress with titilations
and ruminations on the ecstasy of war.

The feminine replenishes,
recycled continuity.
The masculine initiates the fireball
and sustains growth.

Essentials both.

She opens the windows in the morning
and all the winds of the world
swirl in around her.

Poems fill shallow pans of air
that sift dust of a thousand civilizations
slow as January.

Prairie Moon

lay down in sweet grasses
on this long abandoned prairie

soiled skirts wilt upon the ground
around

the vault open overhead
flaunts pristine daubs of cloud

wagon train trails have tapered
into wilderness

wild reclaimed by silent whispers
of life multitudinous

as it creeps, hops, scurries
through tangled blades

beneath the wilted cloth
skin begins to merge with earth

the rhythm of pulse, artery, life fluids
assimilates syncopation

transformation
through blood, bone, corpuscle

sweets the grasses
deeps the sky

as nightflowers
in glistening abundance

rise

yeah, that's me

brave warrior, seeker of truth

in there dancin' around

where angels fear