For the Love of Sunlight

I saw the most beautiful thing today. A woman was standing in front of me as I walked past, chatting with no one I knew. She had that dark, black black skin that Africans are so lucky to have. It was smooth and almost pearly and so lovely dark you felt as if you could reach your hand right into it and lose yourself. She had her hair shaven close with those pin-wheel curls hugging her skull and eyes pale to her skin, bright and fiery like a lions. Kissing lips and high cheeks that made her look as if she was smiling all the time. A person so worthy of a poem, I had not found. And I, with my pale freckle-flawed skin, my in-between eyes that cannot choose green or grey and often insist on being both, was completely and utterly enamored with her. Nothing about her was faked, pinched, poked, painted or dyed. She was a dark water with a smile just like sunshine.  I wanted to touch that skin, to find if it was exactly what I thought it was. I wanted to talk to her, to find out the ideas she hid behind the hunter-hunger of those lion eyes. I wanted to smile at her, to see her face mirror the expression of my own, though hers a more perfect impression. She was wild and tamed and shy as the sky. I wanted to stop and tell her all of this. But I didn't. I stared slack-jawed at her and kept on walking. So here is my remedy to you, lion-eyed stranger, I want to give you a poem, for a poem is all I have to give.

Oh water-clear sunshine,
reflect from a shoulder

a dark one, a depth of heat
created by the bright
white light

a stand-up soap-box
a rebel in the Savannah grass

you the perfect pearl
the sea-man's boon

you the panther in the shade
graceful and smooth like a river-rock

you the most perfect child of Ra
gift to the sheep in the blue edged sky

you-a dream
a creation of slumber

for you,
you cannot be of this world.

An Update on Daily Life (Love) Here in the Loop-De-Loop House

School.
School...
      SCHool.
SHCOOL,
Or not. Something like that. And work. Food (Delicious, delicious fooooooooood) While we are on the subject of eating, does anybody have good recipes for me? I like food. A lot. Also, you can cook for me. I like to eat. A lot. I need to get married to a cook. Yum. ONWARD! (Huzzah!) I visited my local mom-and-pop bookstore. (I am usually a library rat, because I'm cheap and like to dog-ear corners with little or no retribution for it.) I walked in and the sweet smell of new/used books overwhelmed me and DRUNK
on the sweet scent I bought many books.
      Also, I had a lovely conversation with the gentleman at customer service. He suggested to me many great comic books, which I bought, because I am a newly discovered comic book junkie. I plan to have a scandalous love affair with that book store! I will love her, but use her to my hearts content.

MMMMMMMMmmmmmmhmmmm!
       
     I have books trip-patterned around my bed. I will be WRITING this weekend. SO MUCH. Be prepared! My SocSci exam got moved a week later so the cramming I was going to be doing this weekend with be happening next weekend! I love that! I have a head filled with poetry words and songs and they gnaw at my lips. If I start spouting poetry to a customer at work today we can all just blame it on a busy with with little to no time for my love...
Love love love
In love
Loving this life
Gosh, I've had too much coffee
BUT LOVE
LOVE
LOVING IT
I put a heart sticker on my arm
Thought you should know.
It's sticking around for a while...
I wish to laugh
I wish to love
I wish to be
forever on this earth
a happiness to those I encounter
                                          (I wish to quit coffee and take up tea)
   Oh....
By the way

(Are you ready?)

No? Yes?

                Maybe??

POEM!



Stranger

You stared out the windows
at the chattering birch trees,
your eyes dancing with
the silver-dollar leaves.

I was enamored with you

You wrapped your body’s motion
around the people with you,
small steps and touches
making you a silent sway,
moving your air to create separation
and to break it apart

I was enraptured by you

When I spoke to you
your eyes touched me
I could feel them
ticking off you my cheeks
sliding over my lips

I wanted to kiss you with them

I imagined you a fairy-tale
waiting for your prince to come
with dandelion-duff eyes.

Your hands spring past each other
A rhythm they own
sliding over your knees
creating triangles on your thighs

I wanted your hands in mine

You smiled at me
kindly as pale silk
an origami butterfly
with a poem inside your heart

I was in love with you

Soft-eyed stranger
I am in love with you.



This one is/will be published at Daily Love. They are great. Check them out.  TA-DA!!!!!!!! http://www.dailylove.net/.....

I am going to work now. Bises-bises...

When I Die

It occurs to me that when I die someone will go through my possessions and I will not be there to explain them. Those poems I wrote half-asleep and day-dreamy. The child-like and unformed musings that tip-toe sideways down the notebook where my poem sleeps. Those stories that I wrote that stop mid-way through a word because at that moment in time and space I could not fathom an ending and the idea made my mind shut tight like a trap. I won't be there to explain my state of mind or to cover the thing with my hands and say 'Nope, that one you can't even look at'. It is a frightening thought. But I am alive now, and furthermore have no plans for dying anytime soon. I have too much to accomplish. So this one I get to explain.
Moths hatched hither-thither over the dry state I live in and often followed the light into my bedroom to flutter frantic across the ceiling. But I wandered in one day and one was clinging to the wall, close to a brownish painting that matched it closely. It remained there until I fell asleep and the next morning I wrote this, day-dreaming of the moth.


I Spent The Night with a Moth


I found him when I stumbled in,
drunk on the navy breast 
of the star-spangled sky.


There he was,
brushing flutter-by lashes
against my cheeks
wishing me silent hellos
scattering roughage kisses
up and down my lips


A lover in yellow and brown,
the color of a spent sunset,
He waxes and wanes,
steady as the moon.


Silent, he tells me of his journey
of the road not taken 
and the static forest trees
that took his colors
in their boughs


Silent, he tells me of his flight
A silent strider over night
over eyelash rocks and snakeskin streams


Silent, he told me how he found the sun. 
How he found the sun here
in all my darknesses
and it brought him to life 
shuttering-fluttering life
frantic as a nightingales heartbeat



He begs to come closer, 
he deigns to back away
He grows vain and inspects 
his cheek in the mirror

My lover, graceful 
in his yellow and brown, 
settles above me, 
when the coyotes yawn 
and the sun dims,
there he sleeps
a dark spot on the wall,
comforting and quiet, 
he sings me to sleep.

And into dusty sleep I fall, 
my lover a moth,
my sun a light bulb,
my journey a ripple of bedclothes

I sleep with a moth, 
innocuous butterfly,
beautiful as a calla-lily.