Bio: Poetry

Lonely Star In this thick galaxy of lights find me the star that flickers and almost implodes, monthly chiefly to interest the scientists watching as I have no orbiting planets, or comets, or meteors to keep me company, in this lonely space so I encourage companions, as I can. Irritation Buzzing by, a fly circled my eye, continuously, and methodically. A flea joined in, who showed some skin, bumpingly, and grindingly. Next came the bee, who felt quite free, to slowly hover by, too close to my eye. To the flea, and the bee, and the fly - I stayed stuck, or stung, or swatting - Disappointed Peeping Tom Through this window of mine that you know not of I see you and what you do when you think that no-one is looking and I must admit that after the long preparation of the window's installation your activities are a fitting punishment for my crime since watching you fold your laundry into origami animals and squeezing your own orange juice is not the kind of perversion I had in mind. The Mouse's Roar From the mouse's mouth, came a sound of such force, that the forest shook for a month. The sound had burst, when pressure had built, from a voice too long held back. The Roses The roses grew to the top of the trellis. The sun, and the soil, and the rain all claimed credit for the roses' climb. The public listened, and nodded their heads agreeably. No one considered the roses' contribution. The roses wouldn't have grown without the roses. Little He and Little Her His little hands do pull the hair too strongly of her, whose curls do bounce like springs so aboingie, boingie Her little hands do clutch the throat too strongly of he, who likes to pull on hair so aboingie boingie Nose Storm The sudden shower spat into the hanky. Luckily, there was no lightning - Leather Mountains The wrinkles and ridges of the thin mountains rise, from the flat plain, of the wide leather cushion. Nothing will live there, or love there, but a human's rear, totally out of proportion, with the string of mountains. Silly He and She Very silly were she and he, when they sang together, under the tree. "He, he," went she, and he responded, "She, she." Their giggling became so free, that in a lusty, convulsing glee, they shook each apple from the tree, including two which momentarily, knocked unconscious those carefree. Memory Of Fear The sword is high and light so light, that it mixes with the air as it balances on the tips of my fingers. It fades into a sliver of a line so thin that I only sense it not by sight but by sound like sonar. It expands briefly enough to be seen glimmering slenderly as light dashes over it. Silver flashes appear and disappear like lightning without voltage or thunder. Enough to remind too insubstantial to harm. Fortunate The buttons on her dress popped open. The material from her dress fell into threads. It was a good thing that she was at home, and about ready to take a shower. Seeing by Reflection I assess my own validity, by how other people perceive me. I look to their eyes to see, what they reflect back to me. I can't tell if what I see, is through their eyes, or through me. Too Much of a Good Thing Transplanted from the forest floor, to a terrarium by the door, the mushrooms were lushly growing, until the mold was overflowing. Hula Hearts Far away, she did say, he swayed, and swayed, for her, in hula skirts, and hula hoops, in an attempt to woo her. From a deep, intense glance, she sensed they had a chance, at sharing a gentle dance. She spun his hoops up to the sky, and spun his skirts around his thigh. Earnestly, they did kiss and nuzzle, close, as two pieces of a puzzle, while the hula hoops fell around them, in colored circles surrounding them. Repressed Until I Expire When the frying pan, was out of the fire, the flames leapt higher and higher, until the height, of my pent up desire, leapt up to the highest spire, while I could but retire, being a friar, while the ashes consumed the fire. Senseless Killing My hands are limp, my hands are damp, from squishing ants caught in the rain. On a flat stone, is a small stain, from the slight strain, of my pressing down on them. In a crushing defeat, I smushed their small feet. Was this a triumph complete, on Horror St., or a pain too sweet, for me to meet, without weeping with the rain. An Ode to the Trembling Ones In the stars are shapes, like those of people that I know, who light, and shake like nerves in subspace. So near, and so far, I see them, the trembling ones, full of more light than most, spurting it out, like sparklers in the sky. Night Night As the day passes slip, slip under the horizon dip, dip we warmly embrace hug, hug on our porch, all safe and snug, snug The stars softly light wink, wink against the sky, black as ink, ink as crickets fiddle strum, strum a lullaby, that we hum, hum © Cosmic Collage 2000