poems for lovers and drifters

May 20, 2008 - 11:16 AM PST

she lay prostrate, knees bent
and feet arched with curling toes
in the mold of the playful dancer,
exuding the spirit of May
in melody most perfect
as she chatted of fish and nature

***

saplings are awash in the runoff,
envious as they espy tall fathers
for driftwood understands time in
relative motion, careening down
flooded rivulets knowing the centuries
needed to take root

why has the storm come in their
infacy?

or is it mercy the weeping mother
imparts?

whether fate delivers or chance recommends
the young are out to sea

***

Let histories write themselves
I belong to no time

***

in dreams there comes a place
under the last canary lamp
whose door is unremarkable
and tempting
'want' son of the 'movement' brings
your hand to touch faded
paint spackled flaking oak rotting
in feeble splinters shedding
planck's dust upon entering the hard place
where hard men sipped firewater in reverie

you exhale commercial cash crop
commodity in waking
and watch tendrils encircle the only chair,
billow, and take the form of her

didn't you know she is desire?
made from your sigh
black to red clinging dress
cut below the knee giving shape
to the neocon's belly bulge
beneath attentive breasts
bending ashen shoulders in that
feminine aplomb draped by
blonde ringlets that murmur for
this just one dance

whisper your name sweet muse
and god may preserve this dream

-smd 2008