Two Amigos

As I scurried down my path

flustered-
stum bling-
dis/com/bo/bu/la/ted & out-of-joint-

two dogs —resting— on a bed of grass

still
together
present (in life)

. . . bathing in the day . . .
darning in each moment . . .

One said, with dark gentle eyes,

"slow down (dear one)

to strive is not necessary, but to

lie
in the grass
with a friend,

tis."

The Gardener

He humbled himself:

knelt his desire at the foot of his flower's bed
like a penitent sinner. He saw her
overwhelmed with green, and understood
her hard earth would soften by offering a little water.

Stretched across her wooden frame, using bare-skinned hands,
he skillfully removed each weed suffocating his garden.
Between fore-finger-and-thumb tips he caressed each hole
carved into her withering leaves, and determined in his heart
to exterminate the devouring creatures.

He remembered to turn the soil.

At the side, he unwound the hose attached to the house
and unstopped the faucet–
water-consumed-drought-jumping-inside-her-dark-belly
resurrecting roots giving up the ghost.

Exhausted and dewed, he rested...
Many nights he communed beneath the stars,
savoring tuberose, honeysuckle, moonflower and cereus...
... and was satisfied.

On Loving A Woman

Much rain

makes beautiful

Flowers.

Anxiety:

a gentle knock
on my window—
my gentleman caller.

He visits more often
than those who call
me friend.

He raps softly, lovingly—
ta-tap tap repeating: ta-tap tap,
serenading,
lulling like the lover’s lute,
tugging

relentlessly at the strands
of my partially-unraveled Self,
beckoning me to play, enticing

my senses with unreal bouquets, tempting
me to partake, with him, in Fear's games,
inside my peace-filled dwelling…

I let down my long hair.