This giant that stole my shoe had no self-esteem.
A vacuum forgets to fill up
and lets its holes
into empty sadness.
Sometimes I feel I was a mistake.
Then i realize I must be wrong
and that my mistake
was just that.
The shoe that was stolen
has big dreams.
The eyelets have lost their laces.
But they still have lashes.
i do not believe in commitment
for that is
life without art
a candle without a flame
a cocoon never opened
embrace without love
riverdale hill makes its offerings of shade
from the maple wings of trees
and the soft song of grasses
playing on percussive feet
while Sunday moves by like a picnic wave
into this consecration of love for you
i offer my soul as a golden thread
to light your candle
wait upon your opening
sing the song of hills and homes for you
serve the needs of bright moon and dark
knowing every crescent has its front and back
and new skin only grows from old
so our days together become an ocean of ways
A noble tree stands
its tanned skin almost glowing
in the Caribbean sun
the ocean looks on admiringly
clouds hesitate and gaze before passing
even the wind spends time to fondle her leaves
and carry their memory like a scent
but while the fawning eyes of every crab lingers
and the dead ears of empty seashells listen
for the song of a distant forest
but the tree has taken a bed of termites as lovers
and the consummation has begun