Mantis religiosa (only-pricks-of-protein)

Curious, I enter her sight
as the lab coats watch
administrating bright lights and magnifying glasses from above,
ingesting her scent, I approach cautiously,
we pray,
we stare
we flirt,
we dance,
our wings flitter
against the glass ceiling–you stop.
I tackle her into the grassy Green
rolling around abdomens aligned.

I gesture to leave,
but you blink and motion back,
toothed arms rubbing my chest gripping
her-moans–my fantasy,

locked, lips draw blood,
her arms thrash my sternum,
the S-bending of her abdomen revolves,
she blinks again as the
antennae lash out the eyes
and the late summer sky.

Epilogue:
“Placing them in the same jar, the male, in alarm, endeavored to escape. In a few minutes the female succeeded in grasping him. She first bit off his front tarsus, and consumed the tibia and femur. Next she gnawed out his left eye…it seems to be only by accident that a male ever escapes alive from the embraces of his partner”
-Leland Ossian Howard, Science, 1886

Your dream girl

shits and pisses and bleeds and winces–
especially during the miracle of life.
She is not some smooth plastic object or mechanized road machine.
She is a living organism breathing and trying to find her way through life,
weak and strong, brimmed with success and tragedy–
the solemn and the sullen, the giggle and the hiccup.
She is fluid and fickle, steadfast and solid–
awaiting your coming, yet venturing forth without you.

She is your dream girl but never was a dream.

She’s all down here, all up there

Can’t decide
between the friend
and the idea of
crossing the bridge of action–
misunderstood always
like the use of English,
complicated, because there’s no way else to live–
I mean to analyze:
parsing desires and relationships
like grammar.

She’s all down here, all up there
in a heaven where they don’t wear white, but red
and don’t have it all together
and we love tension
because it refines
and that’s fine with me
as we pray for fortitude from the gurgle inside
and the pride that bubbles over
into the glass blown gods of creativity
reflecting second thoughts and shadows of fear in our minds’ eye
of what freedom from our common sense might have rung in our ears–
For all I have now are eyes and ears(–letters and sounds).

The Passionate Love to His Shepherdess

Andy’s doin’ time,
and we’re all fine,
said he’s built a cell
to dwell in, but you can tell
he doesn’t hide it very well.

It’s about a girl, sounds
like he’s a bit down,
thought she’d be around
no where to be found in
this small college town.

Wants to know where to run
thought he’d found someone,
but what’s done is done
looks around–there’s none
looks likes the shepherdess has sung.

If I pick one, she will be torn

so many beautiful flowers
if I pick one, she will be torn,
no one will see her except in my vase
back home,
and I can’t let that happen.
a children’s store crayon
that I break between my fingers is
no longer my favorite color, god, everything
is white light, black pain–my life on a graying canvas.

One of these days

we’ll watch movies, play monopoly,
I’ll be the terrier, you the cavalry,
we’ll sing and dance under clouds of rain,
not so similar songs, but the tune’ll be the same,
there’ll be reading of writing of long ago,
maybe quoting of passages we’ll always know:
we’ll bear the hearts we hide from public eye
to another that understands the why
there’s been cowering in corners too long–afraid,
afraid of what our Creator has blessed and made,
you’ll arrive on a north wind, I on a south,
will meet together and forget life without,
for I sense a change in the air,
but no vane heralds quite where.
or who or where it will take us to

Can’t give you what you’re worth

I never thought that I’d ever say that love hurt,
but its hard to when I can’t give you what you’re worth.
Sorry for the pain that saying you’re mine may bring,
They need me?and, as for now, I don’t have a ring
And you still dream of waking up next to me.
It’s hard to live loving you (like this) more than me.

I smell of woman

I smell of woman; skin lingers on the tongue,
Dry mouth, wet lips, and thoughts loiter on.
Scared, lost in hair and night;
Found in arms, tense and tight.
Driven to reveal the hidden
Tracing curves with light tips–smitten!
Need I apologize to the girl I might know
And this girl’s groom as he screams “No!”
Before this darkness binds us.
our conscious finds us as
We fall down.

God, please forget.
All like a dream now?
Except the regret.

Stas and Effect

Part I
sloshing through leaves
leading to darkness unknown, away from the lights of town,
beyond stoplights cautioning us we enter into the natural lights,
so hot yet so far away.
catching ourselves sharing moonlit glances
unraveling the stories that have made us — attract,
weighing you and me and school and God?
I mean?God and school and you and me.
disappointed with our hour’s return we return to town
kicking sticks and crossing streets.
maybe, if we add more night to our day,
we will add more light to our night.

Part II
sparkling gem–beset in cotton and denim
I am the meticulous jewel thief?
listen to the tick of the safe?
gradually I reach in to kiss and hold my plunder
protected by laser beams, I beg the precious gem to fall into my open hand.
waiting for her. . . she does.
what now? do I run into this night around us
holding my prize in my bouncing breast pocket?
for my heart pounds with intensity.

Part III
my bent hand brushes your cheek
softly, I paint solace and belonging in your mind.
I do not see your face but know
your vision fades and eyelids fail,
as you nuzzle into my neck
and I hold you, tenderly, under our own night sky.