it's binder cleaning time...

[godream]

Which means, of course, I'm coming across some of the old bits and pieces of poems finished and unfinished, between-class scribbles and things with a small amount of actual thought in. Guess what that means. General disclaimer: a whole lot of .... before lines generally means I'm trying to tab over and remembering that I can't. In spite of how it looks, it doesn't necessarily signal a pause. Er, never mind. Hurrah for the wonders of white font on white background.





autumn (unfinished, I think)
winged vees glide, flee
as colors die
and syrup flows in maple veins




















Angry at You
So isn't it my right to get mad every once in a while?
Can't I scream at you, can't I cry?
You have to understand that if I don't whine
. . . . about squeezing the toothpaste wrong
. . . . . . . . about procrastinating
. . . . . . . . . . . .about your thousand messy habits
I might have to tell you that
. . . . I don't trust you anymore
. . . . . . . . because of what you said to me
. . . . . . . . . . . . and what you said to her.



















flow
i love you like water does
want to mold myself around you
embrace every curve and crevice
want to nurture you
feed you, sparkling
clear your mind and cleanse your body
(then dry you with my hair...)
want you to drink me down
feel me wash you clean and pure
and when i am gone -
. . . when there is nothing else -
. . . . . . baptize me and
. . . . . . . . bear me
. . . . . . . . . . anew.