For you...

The trees
speak to me.
The moss
speaks to me,
calling for my head to find its home.
I will lie in the dew and dream of a time
without time,
an ageless age behind
a gateless gate.
Join me here in my womb.

Join me in what creates
the intermost musings of man,
join me in what shapes you,
me,
and us.
Help me to carve out a place
in a land where the soil
sticks to my shovel instead of itself.

I dream of your hand cupping my face
in my sleep
I watch you watch me
and I know that what you see
is what I see.
I see wombs and birth,
I see pain and war,
I see death.
I see the tombs we've created for ourselves.
The money-man and the loss
of a place to call home.

With you in my head,
I cannot see the dark side
of anything.
With you in my head,
I cannot escape the rising sun
and the horizon that creeps to entangle me
in its wayward arms and digits.
I see only your arms.

I see your arms, reaching out
to me
from the land in which I was born.
Your hands are the rays of sun
warming my peaks,
my valleys,
my plains.
Your hands breathe a hope
onto a tundra long deserted.

You are my sun rising.
You are the dawn of a new age.
You are the arms that hold me
in my sleep,
sleep that brings you again to me.

Once I watched you sleep
and saw a possibility
bloom in your eyelids.
I watched the world create itself.
I watched the way you watched me.

You shine into me
and light me up from inside.
I cannot explain how I am tied to you
only that I am.
Let these bonds strengthen with age
and weather the passing of days
so that every night,
we can look over one another in a deep sleep.

Let us pass into sleep together and
cease to watch one another
watching.

Let us join paths,
looking together into the horizon,
at the sun that beams light onto our faces.
Let us look outward at the world together.

The world will look at us together,
and the world approves.

I've seen this all in your eyelids,
just before I kissed them.










ps -

Once I mouthed the words
that urge my lips to speak.
They fell from my clumsy attempt at a rescue,
onto your smooth forehead from my lips.
You did not notice the fumbling,
awkward touching of my lips to your skin.

You slept.
I watched.



Know that I only watch over the things that ask me to watch them, so keep asking.
Know that the way I feel about you...
it's nothing that's ever written poetry like this.
It's everything you put into me given back to you
and more.

Maybe gonna write

my phone died
when i was telling you
how wonderful you are

my friends think you're great,
and it really humbles me
to be your girlfriend.

You have
invigorated me
for the long winter,
made me ache to
feel the cold in my lungs
as I tippy-toe to kiss you.


When you look at me
I can't breathe
because I've never seen anyone
see me that way.

Maybe it's childish,
but I thought romance was dead.
I never wanted to be
swept off my feet
or taken unawares
and somehow,
you did both without pissing me off.
(haha)

Years have passed since
I've felt warm.
These toasty lips of mine
want to thank yours

I know this sounds
elitist,
but I never thought
I'd find so much...
of everything I've really been longing for
in a math major.

:D

But I am so glad I did.

You balance me,
you keep me standing on my own two feet,
if only so that I can reach up and kiss you.

Thank you so much for everything you've done for me. You've given me gifts that mean more to me than I am capable of telling you right now. I already can't see the screen because I'm trying not to cry.
And a tear just fell onto my hoodie.
Yes, the red one.
I have rediscovered laughter, and smiles, and cuddles, and kisses, and warm beds. I am learning what it's like to fall for a math major.

So here's a formula for you...

(U + me) / distance
______________
(temp in my bed when you're there) - (average temp of my bed)

=

The heat it takes to melt this girl's cold heart.

Mulan by Sylvie Leigh

I put away my silks
and took up my sword.
I wore my hair short
And bound my breasts.
Instead of his blessing
I carried the name of my father
On my back like my shield.

Sword in hand,
I fought
Men twice my age
Men my father’s age
from the back of a horse
Four times my size
I learned a man’s touch
from the blows of his sword.

I fought in battle next to the best of men
Not one knew I was not one of them
I was not one of them

My hair kept shorn
Close to my face
To hide behind my mask.
I lost myself.

I lost on some battlefield
Along with my blood
The ability to heal the wounds inside
With warmth
Like a woman does.

Ten years in the bitter cold
taught me
The foolishness of silk.
The long winters
stripped me to solid core,
My warrior spirit,


I was a warrior
Not a woman
I was a warrior
Not a woman
But I was.

When I returned home after ten years,
My favorite silk kimono
Still hung by my bedroom door.
And my hair grew back.
And my hands grew soft.

But I did not.

Lady Lonely

Back and forth,
back and forth,
back and forth,
the chair rocks the lady I'm sitting with.

It's not the highest functioning wing of the ward
which means,
this lady before me is pretty much shell.
A carcass of a human body,
a reminder that life is fragile and
can at the same time destroy our souls.

My ear tunes itself to the creaking
my foot subconsciously tapping to
the sound of
the rock-ing,
the rock-ing,
the rock-ing
like a bassinet cradles the young,
and like a mother over her baby's bed,
I watch the lady.

She's not sleeping,
but she's definitely not here
in the sense that
she can tell you what day it is
or what time it is
or what she ate for dinner
or her name

My heart beats in time with her breath
In-Hale
Ex-Hale
In-Hale
Ex-Hale
and the cat at her feet stirs its tail
in protest of the lazy September sun.

I come on Wednesdays
to be in her quiet company,
because at least then
I'm not sitting in silence
at home.
alone.

AST 300

A few non-traditional students in my class.
One has Johnny-Boy rolled up jeans and big black boots
Ink on his skin peeking out from the sleeves he's rolled up

It's a little bit poser

but a lot attractive.

What to do about that brooding man in the corner...

Haiku Night, Attempt #1

Hearts bigger in you
than your body seems to fit
beat in tune with mine.

Haikus are very hard.
Forget what your teachers say.
I can't write worth shit.

Poezzi Romanesti

A Poem

Tell me, if I caught you one day
and kissed the sole of your foot,
wouldn't you limp a little then,
afraid to crush my kiss?...