Untitled 1989

I saw you lying there ---
stretched all out in sleep.
Too long for the couch
upon which you lay.
Almost vulnerable.
As it was hot, though cooler than
has been of late,
You lay without a sheet.
Covers had been shoved aside in sleeping.
I had thought you were another --
Coming in as I did from light to dark,
But something made me stay my hand
til you had been identified.
Perhaps it was your infernal snoring
that told me it was you.
My eyes ran the length of your body ---
I had scarce realized how long and alabaster you lay.
Long of limb and long on stubborness,
Yet as you slept I could scarce tear my eyes from you.
Much as I wanted to slip to you,
run my hands along your lengths,
To see if your skin was to the touch
as cool as to the eye --
Yet I could not go.
Fear of how I'd be received holds me too far back.
Harder still is seeing you
bleary-eyed in sleep but up and ready to go.
How I long to gather your head to my bosom,
ruffle your hair
and kiss the dark crown of your head.
No. It's your move, and you're not moving.
07/1989

My Parent's Divorce, 1989, Part II

Those damn blackberries
Will sit in that fridge
til they rot away!
Because I feel too guilty to eat them
And too guilty to throw them away.
Kind of symbolic, don't you think?
Just make up your mind, Bo,
And quit screwing around!
Love has a pretty long shelf life,
but
Love will rot, too,
Just like blackberries.
If it sits around
Unused, unnurtured, unsavored,
and uncared for.
07/1989

My Parent's Divorce, 1989 Part I

A bowl of blackberries sits in my fridge.
They're molding in the middle.
And I feel bad.
I'm afraid I've hurt their feelings.
They were good blackberries.
Fresh and ripe and juicy, picked in their prime.
I nibbled one or two.
But mom brought them.

She sits in my old life.
It's rotten in the middle.
I know I've hurt her feelings.
She was a good mom.
Full of fresh ideas, ripe thoughts, juicy laughter
.... held us in her prime.
She had us two... Kerstin & I.
But Graham bought her.

He sits in her new life.
It's rotten in the middle.
I think it's hurt my loving.
It was a good loving ---
Fresh and ripe and juicy -- young and in the prime of life.
Getting ready to try a twosome.

But that's in cold storage now
A new life is thawing on the counter.
I hope it's not gotten freezer burn.
07/1989

An Ode to a Friend and in retrospect, a fair Wishlist for Life's Love

You asked me what I like of you
Most of all; the best
Often now I wonder
if perhaps I failed a test
For I said I liked you for accepting me
No matter what I be.
But now I find there's so much more
As I let my mind run free.

I like you for your honesty,
for your concientious care
I like you for your laughter,
and because you're willing to take a dare.
I like you for your passion
I like you for your peace.
I like you 'cause you're muddled
sometimes a sheep in coyote's fleece.
I like you for your love of God,
and for your love of Man.
I like you for your Honor,
and for your care of a lady's hand.
I like you for your vision
Your imagination's wide.
I like you 'cause you're learn-ed
and because I know you've cried.
I like you 'cause you touch me
and let me run my fingers thru your hair.
I like you 'cause I love you
and 'cause I know you care.
I like you 'cause you talk to me
and share your life and thoughts
I like you for creations
with your heart and mind you've wrought.

All these things, there's more, and yet,
When my list is through,
I still find I fail to tell you:
What I love most of you....
Is you.
07/1989

Untitled 1989

I do understand
That wistful yearning
that falls across one -
As the sun sinks below the earth
And the crickets sing and hum a lover's tune
In the soft warm breezes of the month of June.

I know how the hunger rides warm swells
Closer and closer, in no even rhythm
Breaking waves upon ones' soul
In uneven moments.

How, of a sudden,
Like the hammer of a heartbeat,
You feel you can no longer bear
to be alone.
Even a brief moment --
A deep yearning to be held in anothers' arms.

To be,
to learn, to explore together
To have with you a friend
which whom you can unveil
your eyes for a time
and forget all else.

As the sun sinks below the earth
And the insects hum their tune
In the soft warm breezes
Of the month of June.
06/1989

Untitled 1989

I tried to weed through my box again --
Foolish girl!
I should have known
It's to that box that all my past
has developed wings and flown.

Must paper
long-dried ink
programs, flowers
a can from which Jeff drank.

Poems --
some foolish, childish young dreams,
Quotations from Shakespeare
diaries cracked at the seams.

I can look on my notes, passed
quickly in class
Some left in my locker from Steven
en masse.

A hair piece dried from the Oktoberfest,
Some bubblegum given at camp on request.
It's my life I've got stored away in that box --
if I threw it away, then something'd be lost.

When I look there I get carried back deep in time
to the pains and the joys,
thoughts that went through my mind.
I need the reminders sometimes you see,
That somewhere inside of me
I am still me.
06/1989

Arachne's Loom / Soul Sewn

Oh, the Webs we weave within our souls
The paths we travel, bonds we've broke
Mirrored crossings, Spider's web
We know no stopping, Human bred.
Duality is inward grown
We love, we hate, the seed's been sown
Double back and live again
Take no more lives, make no more friends
Unweave the tangled web we've knit
Pearl one, skip two: the shoe doth fit
My fellow man, unreasoned fate
I'd help, but I'm a stitch too late.

Cum, Love (no, it's just a fantasy!)

Come a little closer, love
Let flame fall upon your hair
Cold sweat sheens upon my body, love
You look so debonair
As you can see, I'm all tied up
and busy in my way
So cum a little closer love,
And let me have my way
Pull a little tighter, love
I've almost got away
Your chains can't hold me always, love
With kindness on the way
Strike me one more time, my love
The skin's not broken yet
You promised me erotic spice
Which I expect to get
Spear me yet again, my love
Show me no respite
Allow me no response, my love
Use those teeth to bite.
Your leather smells of sex, my love
Your skin of fear and hate
Hate me one more time, my love
Come on, it's getting late.
01/1990