touch

my fingertips read
your skin
braille to a blind man
who gains sight
with each phrase
that I stroke
and your body
reveals

5-7-5 (take one-hundred-and-forty-six : sparks)

I think of her eyes
and the moment they meet mine
electricity

Departure Lounge Blues

I’m in a state
I have no gate
and my flight is overdue
it isn’t great
to have no gate
and departure not in view
perhaps I’ll live
inside this lounge
I’ll see just how that feels
in a hazy fog
of duty free
surviving on meal deals
and still no gate
and its nearly eight
will I get in the air
now I’m in a state
cause I’ve still no gate
which I think is hardly fair

(to be continued)

between the buttons

come hither to my cardigan of dreams
each knitted knot is not quite what it seems
it may seem all comfy cozy
but not all my dreams are rosy
in fact I’ve had a few that were obscene

5-7-5 (take one-hundred-and-forty-five : the cosmic joke)

stars hide behind clouds
and gathering together
they laugh at mortals

Reflecting

my mirror’s glow are you
and to those questioned glances
that emerge unexpected
from the outside of my vision
reflection comes
from silvered eternity

Freeze Frame

this remote control
has a pause button
unfortunately I do not
nor can I rewind
to those moments gone
or scenes that I’ve forgot

Communion

There sits
a priest in me
who waits
in expectation
behind the curtain
ready to absolve
the confessions
you may share
with a penance
hardly vicarial
in nature.

5-7-5 (take-one-hundred-and-forty-four : puschelhoot)

there’s a little owl
she keeps upon her pillow
he flies in her dreams

Draw!

Spaghetti Western carbonara
in a creamy sort of way
slipped out of my consciousness
on the train to Santa Fe
as I eyed-ey spied a cowboy
with some flowers in his hair
cut out a discount coupon
with the spikes upon his spurs