I miss the way you used to look at me,
The ocean on the brim of your lashes
And your heart on the edge of its bayI miss the way you used to handle me,
With all the caution of a child, playing far
From a mother’s watchful eyeI miss the way you used to touch me,
The contours of your throat dipping low
As sweat shielded skin from discoveryI miss the way you used to counsel me,
How the tides would shift with the waning moon
And you, waist-deep, would find the water’s wombI miss you for all you did for me;
I loved the privilege, but never you.
i believe that if i stand
in a library
i should be able to take
any book off the shelf
and be amazed by staggering
insight and originality
or that
if i go to a movie theater
i should be able to sit down and see
a passionate
re-imagining or reflection
of humanitybut that isn’t reality
most everything is filled with
stale, tired, pre-calculated
content
made by fearful peoplei’ve seen brilliance in the eyes
of cashiers
and janitors
My latest musical addiction
Shut up and sleep with me.
