Keep asking cause you’ve smbitten me.

If they were secure as me, they’d be free laughing hysterically underneath the foldout bed here with me,
Crazy thing, finding the perfect between extremes:
listens / disappears / won’t shut up / “Yes we know you’re here.”

How many sucker souls daily get seduced by your curiosity?
Tell me and keep asking, too, ’cause you’ve smbitten me.
Could I love this way? Is your interest real?
Yeah, but
could I get over the jealousy
of your interest–in all the other Mr. Mysterys?

Me, a renegade artist?

Me, a renegade artist?
Swinging into a life, letting go?
Only seeing crying in my mind’s eye,
justifying pain with self-denial.
Late nights, passion, mystery,
gone for you?
Tell me, who is me–no, should be?
Before I am who I am enduringly.

Hide you may

Hide you may. I will seek you out.
I will strive to hold my hands on your back
And keep my thoughts above neck
Hide yourself and make me run longer
Let me know the inner you
Before I know the outer you.
I want you to be modest not just to others
But the one you love, me.
I get a charge from the unknown.
Don’t you? The mystery of what might be. . .
It won’t matter because we know
The Truth evident in us, our images of God.