in the eye of the beholder

so dangerous to be young --

everyone wants a piece of you

and you have so much to give

everyone gets a limb or two

and so dangerous to be aging --

you want a piece of everyone

and you see in yourself

the sharp teeth of a wolf

Like the Colour of Earth (and not Your skin)

infatuation.

(like always)

: my veins desperate to drink

in the gentle copper curve

of your eyelashes

which sit briskly above your quiet cheekbones

over and over

rain-lit ocean eyes and

lips alight with joy

(I see them every time I close my own)

close to sit

and there, should be sensation

in real time --

instead, fantasy / fantasy / fantasy

mind, I see the fixation

dangered delight in delighting in ..

the putting down,

the retrieval /

the casting aside,

the "picking up the coal"

I'd move down you, if you'd let me

softly, just how you know I like

and in the sharpness I'd reveal

all the atoms I'm made of to you,

animus mundi

my polar opposite and twin

-- could you hold me ... ?

or have you not yet grown ?

(though I love your slightness

I love also your strength --

balance is exactly a libran's coveting)

power and abundance lies between us

as in him and her.

the mountains are full of wild cats.

he warned you -- watch out

ate eight ate

before life gave way to redeath,

my acquisition of beautiful things --

off the street, the basement, bar or beach

like some green-eyed magpie

I could build no nest from them

now I practice discipline

(excepting in the forest,

where words re-emerge,

and at night, when catharsis

turns in two gentle streams)

so my hands are clean(ish)

even as I caress the dirt,

even as I lay myself prostrate before you

in the pretense of putting in plants

do you see me fawning ?

or am I too good at opening and closing ?

am I too good ?

am I, too ?

(surely, you are more discerning

or else, more innocent than I)

from there (the discipline)

wisdom uprights itself ;

from there,

maybe,

maybe ?

love-like lettuce grows