Dandelion

Every word I write, is a love letter

to things I can never touch again

Every idea is a ship launched

from the sandy shore of the now

We kiss with forgetful tongues,

As hands renew an embrace

Friends recalled in warmth

Lovers rejoined in darkness

For though the present prints memories

as sheet music for waterfalls

When we meet. . . deseo mía

steam churns, from our presses

white sheets, smoke, crisp and burn

intricately inked, endlessly possible

I am a dandelion in the cold desert

before our rolling, nuclear tidal wave

A map

If i could 

number the stars

in your eyes

they would be

raindrops and paint

spun off a wheel

to count them

follow butterflies

trace a map

etched deep

in grey-blue lines

on my scalp

and then wait

let the hair grow

playful waves

hiding. . .  only just. . . 

beneath 

playful 

fingers

scruffling me

Root

I want to hold your brittle hand...
to feel your jagged pulse in mine
Let it take ensiform root in me 
A redwood destiny, in seed
Threading full my every vein
Leaf and branch, burst up and back 
Unfurling sail and hollow wing
for our journey from this elder world,
To home. . . back to our home. . . 
White roof above, our roots below
As you water me with kiss sweet 
My toes drink greenery, damp and deep
As I am your old silver skinned tree
I hold earth beneath, as solid vow
And storm above, will breach no bough
I give you my shade, my sweet green sea
For you, I whisper, as I sing
I sing you song of leaf and branch
as I stand, 
I stand for you.

The color of wildflowers

Did you sleep well?

Did your body bloom with relief. . .

wild flowers in the moonlight

My fingertips sowed then into your beauty last night

Tilled muscle and skin until they sighed in relief

And then in the dark of your room. . . 

stretching toward the unseen moon

little buds peeked out, 

yawned with a tender uncurling of leaves,

and the colors came. . .

the little white blooms, like snow blossoms

shy blue droplets of sky and sea

bright yellow joy, shaped as tiny lions calling to the moon

the valleys of your back held tense a moment, 

a sigh of relief at the end of a torrent of rain.

and then the million unnamed colors of love

the kind you saw when you realize in a daze

that our love had thwomped you on the head

and you briefly feared that you might never, ever

see straight. . . 

ever again. . .

Yellow Petals

We learn each other with time and laughter

We hold one another in mind and breath

Our joys more numerous than lights

in the river of stars above

our city of night

pushing blossoms to the dock

pushing gulls on a salted wind

When you hold me, I want

nothing more than to be wood

smooth and cool to the touch

like the green forest air

When I close my eyes, I know you

on the tips of my fingers,

like soft yellow petals

growing through the concrete