I'm gonna try to, not to.

I am a spring soaked tentacle.
Dried up and on shore.
The sun, it's fatalistic giant warmth
provides rays
normally enjoyable do nothing but
provide a coat over, one that
brings warmth, but

that noise.

OK. I think it took me longer than I expected.

But

Swoon. Falter and Sway.

I sway to possibility.

Its timing dance swings

in six eight time 

And I?

I can't wait to woo.

Goodnight, my friend. (5,7,5x100)

Vamonos de isla de encanta

I want to fuck you.

And an allegory to allusion.

and I realized right then. Right then.

With Vykky Ebner's paintings (with their fourth deminsion in overlap.)

A simple twist.

I slipped off your dress.
Your dress, with it's cotton pattern
more fit for summer days,
in the nook
of your kitchen.

Was gonna stay home.

I draw down a mixture of smoke and wet air
and think about that time, not so long ago
when we danced away the night...and catching your eye as you

Dressage Stepp'd Hoofs.

It's cold here today,
and my heart misses you.
My mind knows better though.

I feel as though nothing is the same.
But isn't that just trite in it's delivery?
Is that even possible?

I'm starting to flail a bit,
I'm not certain what happened
or where I went off track.

But the devil and the deep blue sea are smacking up to me
lapping me in directionless float.

I need a life boat.