Oh I suppose
I touch some
Maybe ten percent
Sounds like alot
But if the
World was a
Room I’m that
Dustbunny over there
T+T=I
The only way
To achieve Intimacy
Is by adding
Trust with truthfulness
This exposes us
To a diverse
Number of intimacies
Any other equation
Besides that one
Leaves one fractionalized
And not whole
Masterpiece
Like almost everything
Else ever imagined
You did appear
As something grand
Much too large
To understand then
At first glance
So I sat
And simply gazed
At you studying
As one does
With a Ruben
Or a Seurat
Piece by piece
By peaceful piece
Until I understood
That somethings aren’t
Meant to be
Mine but rather
Only ever known
From a distance
Thereby letting you
Go to be
A masterpiece to
Someone that can
Display your beauty
In a hall
Grander than mine
YouLastNight
Like the moon
That inches slowly
Through wooden slats
Like a cat
Prowling before pouncing
The moon beams
Delicately peel the
Browness of your
Skin back like
Your turbulent sleep
Removes the bedsheet
Leaving you ashen
And moving lower
As the moon
Moves higher in
It’s sky eventually
Landing on your
Feet which poke
Free down there
Like a pair
Of wooly mittens
All this as
Satie serenades waft
From hidden speakers
And give me
What I know
Now as beauty
LittleRoom
I live in
A room in
A house and
People bring me
All sorts of
Things all sorts
Of things really
Troubles problems jokes
Lunch and dinner
Bills to pay
Things to want
Hair brained ideas
And oh comfort
I like my
Very little room
With my Bach
And my Bethoven
My disco afternoons
And jazz nights
I stay here
Others escape here
In my tiny
Very little room
