Her sun kissed skin
My wind swept hair
Eating edibles by the ocean
So happy we’re here
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Tag Archives: water
a Starry Night
How often do two minds dive
deep within the sea of time
whose infinite waters share the light
a moonlit dance if you’ll take mine
hand then we can share this sea
and dive to depths eternity
a Starry Night, Saint-Remy-de
it took an ear to hear you say
I see you, feel you, knew your name
long before that faithful day.
the shores of freedom’s water
Let breath become the ocean
each inhalation I do see
the shores of freedom’s water
are washing over me,
and with each exhalation
the ocean starts to breathe
I open my eyes gently
to gaze upon the sea.
Robin Williams
Robin Williams
under the right light
had the warmest
coldest, sincere
blue eyes.
Oh, those blue
blue eyes.
Like Arctic waters
were those sad blue eyes.
Just a man who
made voices
who made miracles
who made hearts sing
who made hearts sigh
though he couldn’t see himself
without those majestic blue eyes.
So perhaps he made a choice
with all depression laid aside
to go out as himself
before disease could take his mind
before it could wash away
those blue blue eyes.
a drop of rain
The steps you take are big
where mine are small,
the steps I take are soft
while yours make imprints.
For now it seems that I am lazy
as you wipe sweat off your brow,
try to understand my empathy
for oak trees rooted to the ground,
and take heed in the soil, though I may
not make a sound, a drop of rain
breathing life, the only way I know how.
measured in peanuts
It takes more courage
to know your worth
and walk away
than to stay, resentful
knowing that your worth
is being measured in peanuts
An Exhibition of Age
She examines her shoulders
her breasts, each time
she comes exposed from the
cool chlorinated water.
She’s aged but not old, tan
but not that dirty brown leather type
lifting her arms to slick back her hair,
each gesture is strategically planned
as not to exhibit the slightest idea
of wrinkles or tear of stretched skin.
It’s important for her to feel young, almost essential.
It’s as clear as the ripples of water she leaves behind
as she folds to the comfort of a faded maroon lounger, the
heat of the sun slowly dries the beads of water
which spider like tears upon her olive thighs,
and disappear into the fading afternoon.
Reason #2 for Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail
Elizabeth says I’m happier on the West Coast.
So if her observations are to be correct
I must, at least for the sake of argument
test its soil
drink its water
and observe its stars
2,668 miles from Campo to Manning Park
for 160 nights, give or take
before settling for the East Coast.
Morning musings.
In the morning
before the sun
when the birds speak
and the city wakes,
after a good night
of drink,
the cure all — water
by my bedside,
I listen
to the sweet symphony
in my guts.
Words Of An Average White Male 