Sunday

I am going on a picnic,
I will spread colors around me and
sleep on the sunny cotton,
Lunch will come later
and the pale straw basket will reveal
strawberries bright as jewels
and the mysterious darkness of red wine.
Moisture will pearl on the glass bottle of
ice water, running rivulets down the steamy sides.
I will spread golden honey thick and rich
on fresh bread, and
if you don’t mind, could I borrow your eyes?
I would like to see as you do,
I would like to smile.

Symphony

The violins began at dawn,
from deep blue to pale rose,
the violas plucked strings and the basses joined in.
I rolled over and the chords rose,
the harmonies were complex and
still you slept.

worry

Sometimes I think I am
that girl, the one over there that they circle around,
she’s only fooling, and the only one she fools is herself.
Sometimes I worry that
I am rotten inside,
Sometimes
I want to warn you,
Sometimes I beg you to run away.

more

bits and peices from the edges of my english notes..

It was March,
the moonlight was spread
perfectly icy-thin on the water
and the night was so full
that the bard owl swam through velvet
and I climbed stairs
upwards until dawn

....


Within these pale blue lines
I will lay myself,
I will stretch prone
before you, and wait.
Stitched like a cotton shirt
I will cover your back quietly-
you'll never know I'm there.

Love Poem

I’ve been working on your love poem,
it happens in my head, it has to do with
The weight of a down comforter on my back,
something along the lines of
jelly beans and oversized sweatshirts.
I’ve been working on
how you place your legs when you sit,
how you curve your back when you are tired.
I want to describe warm breath at dawn,
I want to trace your lines with crayon and
fill you in.

encounter

Barefoot in the drizzle, she
paused there on the pavement to look at me.
I felt so solid there, we shared the same air and yet
her breath was universal,
She was everything and suddenly
Nothing.