50 Years Late and $7.37 Short, Adjusted for Inflation

Daydream darling,
I decorate a psychic space for you:
this space is filled with colors,
filled with textures
and tastes;
dark chocolate M&M’s
silken paisley, astrakhan
green and blue and purple and black
and every other shade has a turn
on its back.
Rainbows in bottles,
artistic banal
it might be mundane
but I’ll color it all,
I’ll color your world,
I’ll color it all.
Floral prints and gothic refrains
the goal is not to mask the pain
but make it palatable,
a bit more sane
in the madness of our love,
in antique daisy chains;
daydream darling,
awaken me
awaken all
that we could be,
as we defy
normality,
every law
including gravity,
connect and drift
on astral tides,
heal me and
consume my love,
my life.

Take Me With You

Silken joy descends upon me,
black lace love, diaphanous deep,
the night has not been made for sleep
and neither has this day.
Smooth and wet, you whet my stone
and sharpen our desire,
sparks fly when the whet stone meets
such soft and sharp edges
beneath.

We meet in the gap,
an opening
that creates life and love and good,
so fortunate I, tis welcoming
though I am a thief,
a corsair meandering
along this wood.

In mere moments,
unraveling
all the futures I had seen,
replacing them in shades of green
and love.

Disappear,
we are wandering,
two corsairs foreign and far away
together through the mystic days,
unseen.

Negligee and Verse

Some madness must be taking me,
because I’m feeling good:
I’ve moved beyond the “why” and “if”
and gone to “how” and “should.”

Guilt recedes, and different breeds
of feelings now abound:
it’s love, it’s lust, passion or bust
in touch, in sight, in sound.

We trade our dreams through heated scenes
of negligee and verse;
we cannot say upon what day
things grow better or worse.

Reinvent music, clothes, morals, prose,
and know we risk disaster;
somehow it seems the very thing
we both are pining after.

I Hold With Those Who Favor Fire

So you called me again tonight
after calling me earlier
to tell me you couldn’t call me
that often anymore
because my voice is too intimate
and my poetry is too good
and you’re trying to figure out
what it means to be good.
I respect your space,
your multiple needs,
many of the conflicts are mutual indeed,
but I also respect
that you called today twice;
our world will end in fire,
not ice.