Praying

I bend myself into the shape

of your hands

As they pray, in their way

for release and rapture.

Your ghost, tapping on the window pane

Tapping into my lucid thoughts,

Dissolving their foundations

To nothing but a few grains of sand

on a landscape

under the flashing sky

I have surrendered to.

Curls and origins across your palms

leaves me a sailor in their grip

Navigating every crease and crevice,

Searching for a new world.

I sleep and live inside you

To the sounds of beating wings

and holy singing.

Bonnie and Clyde

Be my Bonnie

I’ll be your Clyde

An unstoppable force

Be each other’s side.

We’ll carve out a spot

In glitter and gold

And by the tides current

I will love you bold.

I ask you to show me

all your secrets,

You say you have no secrets

from me;

So I ask you to show me

everything else.

Like Bonnie and Clyde

of another time and place

We are partners of art and crime

Laying waste to anything

that falls into our path.

Burning rubber

and signing love letters

with tattoo ink and bullets.

My gorgeous beau

My natural born killer;

let’s overthrow the crowd

and give them something to talk about.

We are the outlaws

and we are the dreamers,

my love.

Brazen Blue

all i want to do

is hold on to you

deep in the nights

of different muse.

spike my blood with brazen eagerness

and lead me to your pastures.

we ride sky

and we get by

in these love and war disasters.

dance until the night's exhausted,

oh let me lick

your blessed skin.

and then with just one baited breath

we begin our love again.

kiss me

kiss me

over and over,

burn me with your eyes.

we walk on

saving each other

with passion, wine and lullabies.

Highway

I am realizing that my writing

is a lot like my mind.

There's more of it

than I thought there was.

It's not organized by structure

so much as it is by pattern...

I think.

I have no idea

how to make sense of it all

let alone how to arrange it

into any sort of sense

for anyone else.

And the poet in me

of course says

"screw everyone else"

but what's the point

in being able to speak

if we have to keep secrets?

So here's this huge mass of words

and images,

greater than the sum of its parts

but nothing more

than highway confessions of a madman.