Thou Shall …
I want to be your undergarment.
Stay close to you all day.
Picnic in your mossy field
and nibble the time away.
To the valley where the critters sigh
I shall belong, with precious molecules
and to the fields I bring a gleaming scythe
so lingual pleasure smoothe itself in drools.
To the ocean claps waves of winds' echoes
Crouched down as the breath in front of me
receded away in sweetness of inno-scenti
and the preferred costs spoke in stakes of
life that does not solve the garden maze,
only that she shall grow it …
As morning breaks there is a chill
new to the valley floor, waking
the artesian spring from its deep slumber,
trickles commence and cover mossy traces
left behind in the scythe's wake,
behind the receding moon there is a dream
its fibres stretch between horizons
and oversee the small brook as it becomes,
in time, a stream that thunders forth
as it surpasses all life as we may know it....
soon....it has become the ocean of oceans,
home to the fishes, to mermaids and our thoughts.
Thou Shalt Remember …
That for all that we are
we have not been chained by tongue
to each other's surrender over piquant dreams
that rain's fluency became as a settling language
pioneering through canyons peaks
of love’s hover in craft and carve
Thou Shall …
… for always