On a piece of Frost

Love is always shot,
Through,
With that salt,
Which joy never lacks.
Happy needs unhappy,
Heart to be warmed,
A sharpened shard of,
A hardened throbbing heart,
At home in it’s lovers breast be.

I believe I wrote this in response to one of Cynthia's haiku.

Beauty dances

I hope no one
frightens away
these beautiful and delicate butterfly's prancing
the flowers softly droop under their leggy dancing
my fascinated heart's gamboling from glancing
at life love without pretense

to those who would forget
what life love is
love life it is not
remember when
you ran in the rain
and smiled
for you knew not

On beauty and posterity

I would write a poem to beauty
but
a soul is of the surface
not
life is much more magical
and comical and tragical
:)
The hope
when we are gray
and youth has gone it's way
that
the mirror will tell a tale
of a fully balanced scale
on skin lines of truth
not scars of lost youth
Aging is not a slow bleed but a ripening.

She is my partner

I've alway thought of her as a partner, riding towards the same destination as me. Me on my short but reliable mule and she on her great white percheron clippity clopping down the road of life, each leaving little bits of ourselves as oderous tell tales for the other to find and wrinkle their nose at. She is always there on that trail, maybe a little ahead of me or a little behind, all's I have to do is call. We rarely camp at the same crossroads but when there is a river or creek we will always stop to swim together. It is the most fun in the winter when we freeze our selves to such awareness and then lie next to each other on our collective bedrolls just breathing. The air is alive at those times.

On Goodbyes

Seeing the end of the relationship from a distance of months or years and then having it upon you like a ton of anguish, relief, and doubt, ruthlesslly crushing the last vestiges of shared dream/vision from both of your hearts and then just saying your goodbyes, turning away to that quiet abyss of icy solitude.
Goodbyes like this are the most weathering of all, the souls sediments stirred to such a frothy mix that navigation is all guess work for while.

When we realize how alone we are as individuals we remember how important those we love really are.

More bouncing off Trans

"Put my hands where you wanted my memory to be,"

Holding to our beating hearts, embracing
gentle touching hands,
understanding our paths parting
may be lost in the worlds
moving and shifting sands.

I watch you sleep contently
in my now safe keeping
while tommorow speaks of time away
for breakfast I'll make you an omelet
with buttered toast and tears
the last glass of orange juice
with vodka I'll drink today


God Trans keep Musing

Bouncing off Trans

The verticle smile calls us with a siren song of pleasure. The sea we sail as men is not so wonderful, a life of puffed out chests cock of the walk egotistical crap is not totally fulfilling so when we answer those silky folds it rarely goes perfectly swimmingly as we are easily led by the thought of what we think we hear.

Isn't love great
it opens
it closes
and leaves
hearts
awake
sometimes wounded
oft times freed
the power
of sensation
fire, ice, and bleed