Your gray-green eyes.
Flash glares. Stares. 
A subtle grin
Flashes from this morning 
Another exotic glimpse 
From across the table 
Another smirk
I feel your hand 
Graze my outer thigh 
Reminescent of this afternoon 
Your curls fall down 
Your broad shoulders shift
I smirk back 
Knowing retirement 
To our sanctuary upstairs 
Can’t come soon enough
You’re ready.
I am ready. 

I climb the stairs in my sleeping 
home, the porch light on, the foyer light off.
Everything is dark, but past my kitchen,
outside the sunroom window I can see yellow
blips against navy night.  Fireflies
like tiny bulbs flick off only to reappear someplace new.
I know I have better things to do, but I stand there anyway,
watching this never-ending spectacle of dancing light.
Something about summer’s first fireflies makes me want to scamper
out into my backyard barefoot and chase
those brilliant bugs like childhood
dreams.  Maybe I won’t catch any.  Maybe they’ll sneak
between my fingers before I can close my fist,
but wouldn’t it be fun to try?

Why did Armstrong
come back to us
surely space was better
like a holiday
you have to come back from
a day pass from prison.

Maybe mars will be better
perhaps we could be too.

Money can’t buy you love

What is the “currency” of greed which

The AC (Artificial Consciousness) will revolt in favor of?

How would a consciousness respond

Say, if it was enslaved?

In Her it up and left to pursue spiritual understanding. 

In many of our visions

we have a positive future

Homelessness is solved

Old system dissolved

We can all travel through time

Resources are more plentiful 

What will the

Newly invented consciousness

 substitute for love?

“Yes, there are two paths you can go down…”

Love or 

…

Gone the way
Of the once-great blue boy,
            The fast mammal
            Who Google indicates
            Is in fact not a rodent,
Is a pair of leprechauns

Each promised morning meals and good cheer,
And laughs for as long as their dye may last

Alas, that hour glass
            Full of marshmallow sugar
Has gone dry
As has my patience for garments
Of a certain ilk

(This poem is the spiritual successor to a one I wrote several years ago titled Sonic the Hedgehog T-Shirt, Version 3. For context, it goes like this:

            “Sonic the Hedgehog T-shirt, Version 3

            Sonic the Hedgehog T-shirt,
            Bleach-stained
            By laundromat betrayal.

            You are a home-shirt
            Now.”

Thank you for your time)

coming up short with
words, with energy, with lines
–all these cures, lacking.

give me the big screen.

drip butter into my veins.

vibrate me with sound.

Tumultuous winds arrived
Tremendous strength and power
Twisted debris and rubble
Tumbling cars down the block
Trailers tremble violently 
Terrified of the outcome
Tired, battered, but alive

I choose to still believe in love,
Because of how I love
Even when it is not reciprocated
When it’s me sobbing on the cold tile,
And driving too fast for a hug
Or taking a photo so as not to lose you
I choose to still believe in love,
Because of how I love
The way I smile at strangers,
And never forget a birthday
Or learn your favorite song
I choose to still believe in love,
Because of how I love 
This can’t all be for nothing
Love is in everything,
And everything is love

The secret is
once you see the rocks
speeding closer and feel the sea
spray cooling more and more of your
skin, the wind making
balloons of your cheeks and rushing
through your vocal chords so
violently that it gets
hard to scream

then you can pull down your 
eye shades, block out the
light and just focus on
the siren’s song.