Thumbnail moon hung on/
black silk over grand canyons/
makes me remember.

(OR)
makes me think of you.

I rolled over this morning
And the sheet was cold
And the bed was empty,
And I felt alone.

When I rolled back
Onto my back,
I squinted and read the words
You wrote.

And my sheet was warm,
And my quilt was warm,
And the words you wrote
Warmed my soul.

And I felt your form
And was no longer alone.

Poetry about /
you filled my head this morn, but/
I couldn’t get up.

3 emails, sev’ral
IMs, 4 calls, 10 texts =
she’s not int’rested.

OR
3 emails, sev’ral/
IMs, 4 calls, 10 texts mean she’s/
not interested.

Care to sit/
in a hot tub with me/
this evening, late,/
about eight/
thirty?

How Does It Feel? – A Sonnet. 1:46 p.m.
How does it feel
To go through a day
With no emotions revealed?
No poetry sent your way?

No heart on my sleeve,
No feelings in the flow?
No mistakes to grieve;
Just letting life go?

What would you think
If I stopped taking your time?
If I stepped away from the brink;
ceased sending you rhymes?

Who am I trying to kid?
After all, I just did!

How Does It Feel … Again? – A Follow-on Sonnet. 3:57 p.m.
How does it feel to be
The object of attention?
The one in dreams he seeks?
His mental intervention?

The one who makes lyrics
Pour from his soul?
The one who lets him hear it
Without losing control.

Does such a woman become
crassly objectified
when a man writes down
what he feels inside?

Or is she glad the man lets the world peruse
the inspiration that flows from his muse?

I think I’ve been infatuated.
Twitterpatted.
Romantisized.
But never like
this.
It’s a new twist.

I see you like a spectre
gliding through the shelves
of poets who have expressed
feelings so deep they’ve delved
into the very heart and soul
of the human experience.
And they still don’t know
what I feel when you glance
back at me amidst
the bound books,
and look,
with your deep, piercing, gaze
into my heart
and amaze
me
and see
again
who I am.

Right after Christmas,/
TOYS seemed to go away. He’d/
nothing to play with.

Note: “TOYS” means “Thinking Of You Sweetly” (or “Sincerely” or “Sometimes”)

Maybe i should have no flair./
Maybe I should dare/
2 show I don’t care./

Maybe I should stop reeling/
with deep, emotional feelings./
Then, maybe, I’d get somewhere.