There goes the best part of me
A bee cries, losing his stinger
 Long held at the ready
I give it away
Exposed innards
Font a forever river to the sea
A menthol balm attends the open wound

Indian Hot Tea

Why did they forgo the spice
 in the mystical concoction?
Milky smooth holding the bitter
The food burns with taste
My mouth aches to remember
A sip, ah, rekindles the embers

What Are You Doing This Weekend?

Giving you my heart
That you may play with it
 like a kitten
Sink your claws into its fuzzy chord
Pounce and gnaw at it
 just for fun
Embrace it with forepaws
 while kicking it with hind legs
Reduce its responsive tautness
 to a scatter of thread
And, should you blink,
 realizing you are caught
  in its tangle
Snip, snip, snip


Out of some undefined desperation
 foot after foot to the little pond
 for some kind of respite
The bright blue sky
 weakens overhead
Despondent to perceive the giant cloud looming
 I turn back
 watching my shadow disappear before me
A bright bloom of light taps me
 on my shoulders
 turns me around
The sun peeks through
 beckons me join it
 in its descent into darkness
 saying, “wait”
Entering into the cloud
 like God seating himself on His throne
And the beautiful charcoal of the proud
 only serves to contrast
 so much wild brightness
 its fringes lit in white fire
Fixed eyes remain peeled
 to take in such piercing radiance
Now knowing I never stare straight
 into the pure, generous incendiary sun
Only in such special tainted moments
 can I witness glory
 with my unabashed human vestiges
Thunderstruck, I gape
 at its brazenness
 as it proceeds through
 a feathery chaos
 irradiating every wisp
Light on light on light
 wafting and pulsating
My jaw drops and I softly
 exhale a silent joy
In perceiving the blue sky
 revealed as a dazzling,
 ethereal, secret green sea
And gaze in wonderment
 at the world flipped in a wink
 into some vast oceanic kingdom
As off in the distance
 some cute puffs cheekily
 sport ruddy pink

I Knew Him, Once

scurrying about
 “I’m Lost,” he said
He tripped
 field to field
 countryside to countryside
 galaxy to galaxy
“Here I am: lost,” he said

There a garden grows