Your eyes by the window

Your eyes like window light through glass your skin; either blushed or heated or darkened by the sun your smile, says it all by staying bitter or hopeful your hands, rule me like they know where to guide your torso; to rest on for music to play on

With you

The constellation traveler

You fly away, you slip away You hide in mirrors and evening stars Their reflections show, who you are In colors, and winds, and in the arts You’re magic man You lure delight From dawn ’till dusk Day and night You swim in veins Like stormy tides There’s more to you Than anything here You

Underneath a pool of moonlight

Blame it on the full moon baby Scattered stars You in my arms Glow on you and glow on me Moon Bless us with your love Glow like you We were to come to Being like one Glow in me baby, glow near me We’re like nightingales Hummingbirds of the dark Singing a tune, silent

Badness

The worst thing that you can do is try to substitute feelings What I feel is what I feel is what I feel Intention’s as clear as day and as finicky as a buzzing neon colored night light In all this badness, I fall down on my knees Still looking up

My man, meadows

The sea side is far from here. The meadows sway in their own faint little tunes. This grain matches my mustard color sweater. I like the color of the sun; the way the light reflects across the sky in beams and touches my sweater. If you were to look closely into my eyes, you’d see

Orange flood of light

Back in the time of Vishvamitra, Making love under the sunlight Your hand on my hand And an orange flood of light Warm hues in the sky, earth, and the seas Yellow mellow scents; orange blossoms and a crowd of marigolds A joining together type of feeling A trusting zen-like breathing  

Burning wood

Quiet nights And the midnight stray dogs that bark The scent of burning wood Clay pots and runny rice On a stove made of fine earth I’m wearing my favorite cotton dress And peeking out the open window railings While the cool breeze touches my face Unlocking my heart There’s the lingering scent from grandma’s

Surely dying

I’m sitting here on the empty Jacuzzi staring at the ceiling with water droplets spritzing near my face, as I try to feel fulfilled. In my room, I spray all types of scents to calm my senses but it just numbs me down. I have every material thing that I want and I make a

Line of sakuras

In the morning I see you in a whole new light. I sense you with a dream-like feeling in a surrounding that echoes faraway birds, where you’re looking away. This is a special place where you exist; sitting and reading alongside a line of Japanese sakuras in a Brazilian rain forest, where Indian elephants roam