Easter Parade, Potosi, Bolivia



My Poems’ Purpose

The title is my name,
the page is my flesh,
the letters are my fragments,
the comma holds my breath,
the words are my authority,
their space is my heart,
their meaning is my hopelessness,
their inadequacy is my striving,
the poem is my self,
the effort is my being,
the purpose, ah, the purpose,
is love.


Feathers And Flame

Your heat is immense,
forging my metal
from sword
to eagle.
I take to the sky
gorge myself
on your inferno,
swallow you whole.

Your flames
my horizon,
my wings,
the sun.

I pirouette
on your tongues,
you protrude, extend, reach,
meet me
in the heavens.

Your oath to heat
my freedom in flight
fuse into a planet,
a union
of feathers and flame.

I’ll Be Anything You Want

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a grain of sand, a panoramic view,
the thirteenth bar in a twelve bar blues,
I’ll be your Mills and Boon, I’ll be your mews,
If only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a fortune teller, your yoga teacher,
your secret agent in Argentina,
a roadie, a mystic, your opera singer,
if only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
Your coldest night, your warmest coat,
a buddhist monk, captain of your boat,
your water diviner or celebrity of note,
if only you will love me.

I’ll be anything you want, my love,
a megalomaniac, invader of Zimbabwe,
your weather vein, writer of your play,
a politician on the make, your DJ (remixed),
if only you will love me.

Flowering Fable

Fold me into your nook
like a flower pressed in a book
that we will always write.
Hold me like a phrase
that swoons across your page
and pollen bursts our night.

Kiss me like a poem
with words we use so seldom
whose power dethorns the rose.
Touch me with just one letter
like the simplest flower gets her
down the spine of our prose.

Lay me down like a petal
in our words, let me settle
naked on the kitchen table.
Caress me with your word play,
rhyming me until I splay
between the covers of our fable.