Wish

To wish and

wish and

wish to be

gentle

clothed only in magnetic

silence

would be my bliss

 

TDM

You

You took my inhibitions

And turned them inside out

In the most timely manner

So that at your convenience

You could call me

Sweet

Lovely

Beautiful

Quirk

A joke to you

But had you known

I was accustom to manners

Of flight

You would not have been

So inclined

In your attempt to

Flatter

You would have figured

Out so quickly that

I would crush

You with a look

Of discontentment so

Incessantly putrid

That you would be forced

To your hands and knees

Where my amusement

Would be your wretch

TDM

Andrew

You were trying to be

a Kerouac

When you led me

from subway to streetcar

To marbled sidewalk

and thought you were adventure

Looking for old doorways on Bay

Where I knew there were none

And you were trying to make me

your Queen Anne’s Lace

So I would be

gentle with your secrets

sooth your eccentricities

and unravel your spirit

But I was the seedling of

a dogwood flower

And led you

From subway to streetcar

To tall grass footpath

And thought I was adventure

In convincing you

to cascade backwards between

dandelion and dew

to match my wavelength

which was unravelling itself between

the blades of grass

as though the meadow were

a maze leading straight

to your disposition

 

TDM

Summer Heat

I need some opinions on this one. Is it complete or does it have a long way to go? Please comment below with any thoughts. Thank you kindly.

 

I could tickle the shade

on a day like today,

musky odour (I admit)

emitting from my “delicate” temple

whose flustered

along with my will

to make happy with

they

who step lightly and grin

while I drip

and drop

and drag myself onward

through what seems like concrete Sahara

If I had a Son

If I had a son

I’d name him Jonah

And for the first time I’d be in

Love

With teetering tot

Melting into white cotton

Sheets twisted

around bits of

Twig and sand sprinkled

between the folds of socks

that have slid off of

tiny toes

That I could collect

without disturbing

my love

who

After a long day of

Travelling through backyards

And almost making it over

the swing set is

slow burning

grace

resting gentle

face

 

TDM

Word Vomit of the Imaginary Traveler

I have gone on many paper adventures, pages and pages of text have carried me up and up, far, far away. Daydreams and sleepy dreams have comforted my thoughts and set an imaginary trail behind me. Footsteps through cobblestone pathways, sipping dark coffee, following lamppost moons. Then tracking through snowy banks, heavy feet and runny nose, breathing in crisp frost, windy tears wiping away snowflakes that land on cheeks. Sun baked faces turning red as gazes are lifted, trailing the side of ancient monument and sand castle. Silk or linen draped across wandering eyes, highlighted colours amongst sepia and terra cotta. Crickets keeping souls awake in the night, a reminder to feed the fire to keep the warmth from escaping the tent, so that catching fireflies is a little bit more interesting. Though harder to see them in flame light, it is better for roasting marshmallows. Stopping by a stream to sip or splash water in the cracking faces and worn boots. Stopping by the side and peeling off jackets to rest heads on, stones to prop tired feet upon. And finally listening to ocean swells with active ears and quiet faces, being sprayed with salty mist. Then to squish toes in the sand when the water has not covered them, scraping a heal on a little shell, a tiny home built in repetitive beauty, swirling and twirling curves. The shell made of soft pinks and yellows, like the canvas stretching far beyond the rolling and bouncing waves, going going on until hidden by blues, lighter, then darker, then burst of silver overhead. Twinkle to preserve some light for walking home in, howls to bid goodnight.

TDM