The Psychological Profile
of a Poet

when I write my dense lush brain
beats out pages of insurrection,
or of love's sweet underpinnings,
or goes philosophically suave to impress.
I love to impress.

I go tantalizingly crazy
when I see beautiful things like chipmunks,
like streaked sunsets, pretty ladies,
or when I jump into the cold sea.
I'm simply old plumage plucked clean
trying to put down powerful verse.
I don't know why I write.
I look for oily phrases, cool metaphors
and slick lick openings.
I fit my poems into a rain proof bag.
carry them around.
call them by name.
they're piled high,
scruffy, delicious,
and unabashedly shrewd.
at the beach,
I tune into rubble, rain, dead fish
and majestic birds. I'm free to cry.
I wave my hands and think of my grandparents,
my family and moonlight love.
love - much like a beautiful postage stamp.
I want to woo life. suck on its nostrils.
but I want a meaningful death too.

I love dogs. who doesn't?
I think penguins are cool.
Chinese dragons fire me up.
some mornings my soul creeps around my eyes.
that's when my best poems rise.
that's when I'm pollinated, tearing at the page,
guilt free.
that's when I want to comb and brush away the bad.
that's when I wonder if I was born from a leaky faucet.
I call myself a complex pimple,
dissatisfied, popping mad,
whose house is overstuffed with pictures.
my favorite is that of a pig swimming in the mud.
I want to see him fly.
paid a lot for those photos.
I, who laughs childlike,
who desires blue sky love,
who has a girlfriend,
who will dance for a kiss,
who will conjugate verbs till death,
who's been wrung from fine whiskey
and pure cornstarch,
and who never took a Rorschach.

 

 

your faithful emotion
graces the quiet regions of my heart
they make the nearby air fresh and lively
the rich letters of your name
and your lovely voice
sweet sparkly playful
reach even when you're out of sight
you taught me love is eloquent
that it doesn't break
even with imperfections
that we must understand each word
that the clouds burn off
when we listen

I flourish with you
stand higher than I've ever been
gladly we dance  sing
I gallop towards you
you to me
we have our own little chamber of madness
we are brave
fill small spaces with big love
love's soft eyes lift us
all that's hard has been left behind
we grace the cryings together

we don't go to comedy clubs or concerts
nor read love poems
but we do sing love songs
they come from the land of plenty
we have our own lush words
we laugh when we dash
for our daily ice cream
or like yesterday
when we sang and tried to eat
audacious cheeseburgers
in the car gurgling our drink
you're a thousand sweet kisses
packed into one
you are my summer air
I'm transformed
I believe
when we see the last of Earth
and up yonder we go
we'll continue to waltz
hand in hand
your bracelets around my heart
your witty words tickling me
just like they do here