what a shame that
I’ll never truly be
able to capture the
beauty of our own
universe

not in words,
not in pictures,
not in motions

but I see it

oh I see it

and it haunts me
so

just how beautiful
everything is

everything is unique
and interesting in so
many ways

everything has its
way and everything
has its purpose

everything is as they are
and I as I look out the window
and witness all of existence
I weep at my insignificance,
at my impotency in the
face of this marvel.

But Christ!

*how lucky we are to be
alive

I may not scream it from the rooftops
nor paint in rainbows cross the sky,
all the times I've thought I love you
with all the sorrow of a sigh.

I may not hold your hand in public
nor bare your bussom to my breast,
all the times I've longed to hold you
with a whisper gone unblest.

I may not dance with you at sunset
nor feel your breath upon my cheek,
as you too hold back in silence
all the words you wish to speak.

I may not fall before your beauty
nor let my heart or' ride my mind,
just to once admit it freely
yet the truth is so unkind.

I may not say my words in open
but here in private know I'm true,
for no matter what the world thinks
my love's alone meant for you.

The world is the color of day-old coffee
and copper coins;
The same metallic edge lingers
in our mouths.

The woman masked by the browning lenses is a queen,
walking in disguise among these mortals.

They sense this
They feel the awe and wonder
mixing with secretive disdain--

the whispers which invariably shadow royalty.

Walked in like B flat
Slow music playing
Heels clicked like staccato
Dress cello imitating
Blue notes sunken
Drunken with the motion
Of the left right sway
Spin, dip, heads floating
River more than ocean
She never stands still
She don't shoot the breeze
Heart-breaker, shoot to ****
Then she transposed the thrill
B harmonic minor
Tango, stomp, clap
Somebody shot the dress designer.
Violence in the night
Gasoline on the floor
Swift step matchstick heels
She adores the
White
Light
Like coconut cream
Musicians bathe with the moon
Sleep with its beams
Play until the world
Seems to burst at the seams
Set fire to the rivers
Inhale the steam
Descend with the fifths
Never rest on a trill
Cut the drums, spotlight
Let her transpose the thrill

Seeing you drops me

into a roiling hot-spring (extra-dimensionally speaking) where
the insides are known to welter—their opalescent phospholipids

doing the wave at lightspeeds. Faster. Creating
a ring of light. Now the sound of light. From inside, creating

            Me.      You

            make me light.

Oh the way you came towards me in that vermillion cardigan!
The color was not as fierce as your eyes! But I saw, too,

their softness behind—their yolk. And with mine I asked
            as you passed me by
what would happen if I broke            the shimmering membrane?
            
            Would your water leak to blossom
the spell-bound violet amaranths that sleep their promise
                         in Borges’ living garden?
            
            Or would it spill thick in crimson?
The hot sweet density tasting
                         like a wound freshly opened.

The taste I’ve come to know
                                 when women’s eyes have made me light.

Yesterday, I walked up
to a tiger, and asked him
if he was jealous of
the leopard's spots

As it turns out

Tigers don't talk.

On a related note,
I no longer walk

They say

that the definition of insanity, that is what insanity means
is doing the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over

again and again and again and ****** again


and expecting different results and expecting different things and expecting you to care

I guess you could say

I'm crazy for you
I'm mad about you

Or maybe I'm just a fool