My Skin Yours

My skin longs for yours

My fingertips the soft sinew between your toes

My hands your lower back

My palms your hip bones

My forearms your shoulder blades

My teeth your earlobe

My tongue your lower lips

My mouth your breasts

My tastebuds your sex

My lips your tongue

My skin yours


Pain Honestly

At some point

Experiences discover

Pain honestly

Opens doors

Fear had locked

To step through 

Is to feel

Bonds breaking

A fine crosswind


From new country

And life afresh

If only


Can be graced 

To pain’s source

The Warrior


Facing definitive


And worse

The warrior chooses

To keep their gaze fixed

To weep openly for the loss

Be it theirs or their neighbors

Allowing heartbreak fresh and clean

To advise and guide their path

Swearing never to yield

Nor assuage oaths

But to protect


Widen eyes

Love so openly

Accept fear of pain

Relinquish righteousness

And teach others

That everyone 

Can be

A warrior

This my proudest 

This my proudest poem

With labor of spontaneity

A gift of editing

I present to you for consideration

Heart most squeezed

And greatest brain cells queried

Posted strategically

To garner more views

This my toss off of a poem

A gift of spontaneity

With labor of editing

I present to you for consideration

It’s got heart

And some smart

Posted whenever

Because zero fucks given

One poem most viewed

The other less so

One poem more Liked

The other…

How ironically


And perhaps


I lose my mind

Little by little 

I lose my mind

In hopes of other gains

At some point I chose

Seems foolish now

I cannot say ’twas good

Only that I grow different

Stronger in ways

Society shuns

Or fears

Do I rake the earth with my nails

Seeking crevice to anchor

When from force of gravity

And wind burnt skin

I know I’ve fallen

Into my body

I pray for this fear to release

For finality of acceptance

The safety of wool blankets

The searing heat of truth

And the lush calm

Of love’s embrace



Do not poke the bear.

But he looks so cute
Slow moving and gentle
With an air of affability

Do NOT poke the bear.

Poking is fun, and
I need the entertainment
I crave a good laugh


There can be no harm done
‘Tis only in jest
Surely it will be fine


Prideful bellows
The howling bear rages
And paws
A potent
Bitch slap

Take that.

On Love

“Surely you and I are beyond speaking when words are clearly not enough”
Oh Jane Austen
You respark in me a dangerous belief
Romantic love and the true match…
How farcical

Please do not scoff at my cynicism
I had it once, I believe
The truth I experienced taught the importance of communication
Shared vision
And regularly renewed choice to be with
There is no fulfilling coupling
Nurturing both souls
Without acceptance and support from all parties

Ahhhhhhh, but that infatuation
That lust
That desire
That longing
The ache of need
Feeling less whole when separate
Feeling more whole when inserted joined
“As a hero loves a heroine”
The air of mythic importance assumed

What happens when money wanes
What happens when the softest skin goes lickless
What choices do we make at our weakest
We consistently forget that doing the right
thing is the most pleasurable
For the practice of love is more investment than ideal
With a willing and committed partner
Both looking the same direction
Rather than scrupulously at each other
Owe it to self preservation or simple fear;
Name the reason, there are so many valid

Love is the recognition of connection
Born unto you
Spread universally to all

Silly multitudes believe in just one
Necessary list of criteria checked
Before allowing themselves to open
And feel what was there from our start
Perhaps we need only a handyman’s tools
To maintain the valve to our hearts
Find a partner who encourages free flow
Who enjoys the same fucked up shit in the sack
Because the pain that will come with an open heart is more bearable with regular enthusiastic orgasms

But let’s face it now

The recognition of love with another is thrilling
Enveloping our lives
Raising us to heights we never knew
Or had forgotten
And just maybe
Is the act
Of falling in love
Over and over and over


Tonight I had a moment.

The eyes of Winter caught mine
and I startled
For in the depths of that cool stare
I saw ancestors
my Grandfather
too many to take in
looking back toward
through my masks,
which I had believed removed
through my shields,
which I had remembered discarding
at my naked self

And we held that mutual gaze
long enough
for me to feel the chill of awareness
a hint of shame
and so much loss
as reels of memories flooded my mind

What shook me, however
was the absense of judgment
not a nod of disapproval
that I so expected present

only a question:
What will you do now?