write more poetry and take more pictures

I took pictures and listened to music – it was very relaxing. Got some good shots of Tim and the kids…

The earth breathes deep
when I notice my hand Melted In yours.

Your eyes are cinnamon now.
My mouth invaded by your velvet tongue.
Everything boils, my mother once said, when fuses touch.

I left the gate open. I nod you in
and when you turn the light off, I hear the Moment Whisper
my name. If I need a reason: The Grass Licks your feet
the way it does mine.

Move with me, I say, trace
the white flesh of the moon with your tongue, stroke Circles Over my horizon. Awaken the sense of touch on this bed.

You can hear the Smoke Blur me into you. I can see your
outline disappear. Our mouths overflow with sky.

He wrote a song for you. He calls it black
and blue. He wrote it on your skin, can’t help but let it in.
His words inside of you, empty you, making you his
paper-doll, an outline. Little Girl

hiding underneath the bed, broken eyes in wet hands. You wonder
is it something you did, something you never said. You say

it ain’t that bad he just plays rough. You believe you
aren’t that scarred when you’re covered up. You write you’re well,
but afraid to be alone. I wish

you could stand and know you’ve grown: Turn the page. Start again.
Forget extremities. Forget
that man.

Cricket voices burn in my black globe.
Rip the air into fragments, none to sustain
your breath.
Thinking is too loud. Stitch up the mouth.
Let the tongue go numb.

How do you feel girl-
when your garden dies
when rain never comes
when heat drinks your faith out
from your open palms?

How do you feel girl-
when your dreams of cherry lips
bleed on broken mirrors and withered grass?

I leave my shoes at the door
and accept my story. My feet are strong
but this globe spins me to the floor.
To dream, I dream to hear nothing.