Trite

How can I convey
what is nothing new under the sun

reprint

of what they've all said before (cycle, cycle, recycle)

and it being a four-letter word
I don't wish to be vulgar
when I say it for myself don't be scared or disgusted
buck up - write - squeeze it out-
breathe.

Love.

(Merely a gentle twist of heart to release that high-strung emotion
convulsing to the sky like a slender wounded dragon
a flash of red
and death.)

To the Poets

I read you all closely
feverishly turning the pages
breathing in line after line
like an intoxication
words I refuse to pen
words I forbid to say
a meaning too intricate
dont' say I'm shallow
it would break my heart
the terror of admission is too severe
while savagely repressed
I read you all closely
you allow my feelings to
explore emotions my will does disguise
the indulgence of your sonnets
free some inner chord
yet I recoil and snap
- how can you say that with such fervor?
word love is too fragile to toss around pin down
and you say love dead on
how can you be so intense?
I am frightened to write such words
I might regret
later laugh at my foolishness
yet you all continue to say the
words I refuse to pen
words I forbid to say
with such addictive force my barriers weaken
you demand: does the mellowing of love
discount the reality of its present experience
I reply: never
you demand: if feelings later change should
you scoof upon the words penned in the
present earnest sincerety
I reply: never
word love is too fragile to remain caged
don't say I'm shallow
it would break my heart
just take and guide my hand oh poets
let my pen experience unrestraint
and show me how to be
unashamed and love

[10/2/06]

Eros

The sense of the world is short,
Long and various the report,
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it,
And how oft soe'er they've turned it,
'Tis not to be improved.

- Emerson