Origami

I have folded too many times
into pleasing, useful shapes

All you had to do was all you ever did;

I assumed the positions

Tangled fibers fail;

wearied with the work 

of false bravado

I become a useless scrap, 

creased and flimsy;   

to disintegrate before you

the only thing left to do

Wild Humans

in the light of dark
eyes make sense
like words do

lips to ear, each
breath whispered
a skeleton key
to waking puzzles

tongues travel,
translating; the
foreign familiar

fingers trace
remembered paths
sightless, well-worn

permeable skins
swap bliss
sighs speak
native tongues

in the dark of light 

eyelids shut
like doors

words tangle 

like static
over lines unseen

mind arrives to
numb instinct,
wrestles for control

bliss flees

retreats to far, 

inner corners

lonely, longing

(again) 

Drafts May Appear...

Dear blog friends,

From now on, I've decided my blog will be a work in progress.  The luxury of not being published is that I have the option to revisit my poems; which is actually quite nice, because occassionally I think they are better for it.

So, for the multiudes who visit this blog (all 2 or 3 of you, and yes, I'm smiling) from this point forward, let it be known that I shall identify work in draft format.  Comments are welcome, always.

This decree is dedicated to me in the hope that I will more actively pursue editing, adding, and crafting these poems.  Thanks for stopping by. ;>

Going About it the Wrong Way

Love presented meager; 

small bills peeled 

from thick rolls

rubber-band protected

the reticent benevolence, 

gracious granting favor; 

double-standard disapproval, 

disciplinary withholding

a short attention span 

consistent, predictable; 

disregard for

genetic, familial

cause for provocation; 

our frenetic dance of 

perseverance and sabotage

totemic behavior 

vested more in self than other; 

the return on investment, 

coffers rich with fear 

:hrr 081609

Memory Indulges

hands at 10 and 12

her bare knees small

to one amused;

love-drunk as

13-year locusts

singing on the windshield

the yellow suit strap,

damp, twisted;

her sanded shoulder

apricot-round on

flattened grass,

lips like sleepy

curled leaves

a nocturnal chit-chat

of insects, other mammals;

the wind-swept water slap

at fevered limbs,

hungry fish nibbles

like skeletons scratching ankles

press of teeth to throat,

the fragrant skin smile;

an empty window witness

to their bright embrace

not meant to last;

memory indulges

an indifferent end to,

the intoxication of firsts;

reality a sooty, metallic

screen left hanging at

summer's end