Tickling Spiders and Others: Mash Up Poems

Obsessed
I revisit photographs full of pleasure and knowing
touching the outlines of black and white.
Colors refract back
into eyes that see without perspective,
complicating the view.


We played at love
well and often
and became obsessed with details of discovery
greedy for knowledge
hungry and alone.




Swallowed Spiders
Climb in the back
and we are gone.
Riding the road
skimming hills and valleys
that drop into our bellies 
tickling like swallowed  spiders.


I remember the smell of sunshine
and your hair dancing on the back of your neck
bent low in laughter,
while the hypnotic joy of freedom,
like yellow highway lines,
slid faster and faster
beneath us, into us.


Yesterday
and a half a lifetime ago
provide the perfect place to hide.
To once again feel the sun,
the tickling spiders,
and you,
like freedom,
sliding deeply into me.




Melting
Background noise and ambient unknowns
coat me in pleasured confusion.
I take off my glasses
and each hour quickly passes
with shapes and colors and sound.
I cannot hear your words
but I feel them slipping into me
snake-like, gentle pushing fingertips
of innuendo and suggestion.


The way you stroke imagination,
I do not need eyes and ears.
My body and spirit become an impressionist canvas
and melt liquid into
a pulsing puddle of sensation.


Longing
One dance left.
I want to leave behind doubt,
the fears and flaws that shadow and shade,
wasting the grace I've been given.


One song left.
I want to give my Siren's call
to draw you near from far away.
Come to me to raise cups and voices.


One life left.
I want to stretch the moments
building bridges to infinity
crafting something from this nothing.


I could be your sun.