Assorted Poetry v1

Note: This entry might expand as new things come, or not. I really have no idea if any of this good. I’ve hardly ever written or read poetry, lyrical prose maybe, but nothing as identifiably ‘poetry’ as this. It’s enjoyable to explore this mode though, having no clue where it might go. Very little, if any, editing has been done with these. They mostly come fully formed.


Step barefoot across the bedroom floor,
as you leave your toes,
soles of your feet flashing,
shedding the pieces that aren’t native to you.
Take your place in the duvet sky
and I’ll trace your constellations.

Three stars a triangle your ankle,
twelve stars a bowstring your inner thigh,
six fluttering suns a parabola your waist,
the soft breath of galaxies your breasts,
moon shadow the hollow of your neck,
piercing planet of August sunset your lips.
I’ll be your Roman astronomer,
I’ll lift the observatory roof,
let your stars fall down on me.

And when the night turns morning,
all your stars blinked out and one pale leg
the crescent moon revealed outside the coverlet,
when the eastern sky goes violet, pink rose,
when the bedroom walls be colors of the Adriatic,
ageless and rolling be that Grecian sea,
I will place my palm upon your hips
and introduce you to the day.

I’ll say–
This be the day you chose,
this be the day you’ll conquer,
this be the day your glory,
here be your strength, your successes, your beauty.
And this will be my alms to the dawn,
to send your spirit
into the void


The sun burns, sinking
into the sea
I look for words

Only this.
We do not understand,
not beauty,
not really.
Reverberating thud, landing
at the base of my spine.

Nature beauty,
raging blasting exploding,
leaving us 
jaws unhinged

like toddler stutters.
My smallness
the black heaven majestic
beyond me, dropping


How the generations
they have circled.

Mothers and fathers,
they faltered,
incomplete their work.
Materialistic holes,
they planted us there.

Cycle reversed.
Back again.

My brothers,
born from Repression,
with the unfinished dream
of Expression.
Self-soothing, seeking.

Robot tapping, screens.
Aching, not finding,
not admitted, revealed
in our bitterness
and isolation.

Pennsylvania Rain

Pennsylvania rain falls down,
down the bus,
down window pane.
Lights they shine,
lines they sway.
Winter glimpsed,
farewell, so long,
so says this day.

We bounce across the Keystone State,
nodding heads and license plates.
Where we’re going,
we cannot say.
Headlights, youth,
and interstate;
love beyond the moonlight gray. 

Does life take care,
it follows or does it lead?
Hold our breath,
our own melody.
Down, we dig,
lost, we pray.
Trampled grass and sparrow cries;
hills of mud,
thoughts of May.

Fear, shouts and cigarettes;
imagined thunder,
frogs and wings;
dogs barking in my sleep.
Nothing lost,
something gained.
Faith, hope,
your dirty jeans.

Rivers, lakes and ferry rides;
windy leaves,
mind on tension springs.
Family presses,
edges fray;
we whisper soft,
we meditate.

Truth untouched,
we know the way.
Space, stars and empty things;
almost now,
we seem the same.
Your ruffled dress,
my insecurity;
brush your hair,
walls colored cream;
two beds touching,
our hearts they dream.

Down this road,
whatever lasts;
however far dare goes the path.
Flowers write,
they hold you dear.
Let turn the world,
let waves break near;
will touch you softly,
will be your mirror.
Diamond sparkles,
glowing beams;
wordless beauty,
clearly seen.

Pure as gold,
a lion’s mane.
Pennsylvania rain falls down,
sun comes up,
through window pane.

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