Tomorrow, Butterfly

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On frail wings
Spectacles of memories
Perhaps well suited for the pin
To mount up in some gallery
Go sailing far beyond my reach
But I should never wish it so
That beauty on this grander scale
Be found confined
By greedy man
Or turn of hand
As time, life, and love demand

Tomorrow then, my butterfly
If winded currents sweep you so
I will not keep you
No, not for trophies
Not for thirst to see your colors
Freedom owes itself to us
Your gilded wings deserve release
The slightest touch
Might hurt so much
For something there so precious made
So, to the breeze, I send you off

Tomorrow then, my butterfly
Today may be a time unkind
The sunset speaks
Upon your fragile form so sweet
Fluttering beyond my reach
But I can be
Content to know I held you close
And met you on this journey we
Were christened for
Before today was ever dreamed
Farewell, I hope you keep your wings

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Espial

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To the dark
To the drifting swaths of formless shade
A shape is born
Born from vision shifting–that darting eye from light to night
In faint image so fair
I see you
For shadows, a host you have become
But not like parasites, they feed
For comfort
To you they cling and lay
No better shape is found
In this celestial pool. I decree
A master of the bed on which you lie
That all things large or small may to you concede that their beauty cannot match you
Nor can I
To look
If but in shadow
On your face as still you sleep
No more a lovely picture could a thousand artists paint
Fear not, my darling
I see you
I hold no thing above your thought
Keep no treasure more of worth
I have no need for else in life
But to know that you are mine
Take your rest
Stir when ready
Wake when sated
I will watch you here in shade
As eyes adjust and light subsides
Until tomorrow when you wake
I watch you here and think
There is no grander site
Than you
In day
Or else in night

Armored For The Moon

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Armored for the moon, we are
An arbitrary tercet
Casting blatant disregard
Across the face of gravity
Cavalier for passion
In a reckless sort of fashion
Trading atmosphere for purer air
To fuel our fantasies

Cradled for the night, we were
A perfect convalescence
Woven fingers under blankets
We assaulted northern lights
Crafted after seriphs
Vaguely odd and plainly careless
Making love and taking dares, we made
Our memories in the night

Overlaid with grace, we are
An everlasting circle
In an orbit better set
Than all the dreams to come behind
Burning up on entry
Like a star on course for centuries
We set our mark to heaven
And our love became divine

A Figure On The Path

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Suspended mid-ascent
Photic threads about her sylphlike form
Gossamer, such faint restraints
Casting glows on weathered paint
From interwoven skin and ink

Lips brushed almost red
More like blood and wine entangled
Lushly driven floral spangles
Stolen ministry of angles
Spoken softly like a stranger

Under charcoal cloak
Her corona piercing flesh to soul
Driven nimbly through my being
Studded figment I am seeing
Shapely alabaster dreaming

Pale by moonlit paint
Transcendental vapor drawn in shape
Floating weightless in this forest
Through a chime of ancient chorus
Called and drawn from air before us

Are You?

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Aside from the rise and fall
Of breath I see no sign at all
That you are less than perfect
Even human like the dirt that I am
Aside from gentle beats
Of pulse I cannot force belief
That you could be so flawless
Lying here within my arms–in my hands

Are you real?
Because the colors of your cheek
The vivid semmetry
Of your every little curve
Makes me feel
That you must have been a dream
Or a fragile figurine
Not a mortal, but an angel
Are you real?

I Saw Love

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Bathed in fading sunlight
On a golden summer’s eve
I saw love the size of mountains
In the way you look at me

Tiny little pinholes
Pierce a dusky charcoal sky
I saw love the size of planets
In the iris of your eye

Struck in muffled rhythm
Through the fabric of your dress
I saw love the size of heartbeats
In the passion you confess

Bursting through the confines
Of your body where it lay
I saw love as tall as Heaven
And invited it to stay

The Pressure of Being Plastic

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Stitched carefully together
Her words trickle slowly
In clandestine tribes of marked apprehension
Tiptoeing shards
Split from glass figurines
Cracked by screams
Tracked at higher frequencies
Than dreams sold here

Corner vendors spin her love
Or some simile of
At sales pitch speeds
Drinking cellophane and regurgitating demographics
If I dance to the jerk of these marionette strings
Will I be pretty, like plastic?
Are our measures so drastic?