To and Fro

You are moving
toward me
and from me
at the same time,
billowing in the wind
a flying feather in the breeze,
floating on denser air
as a cloud
rolling across the sky,
airborne
naturally moving
as the spring’s breeze
carryies the dandelion’s seed
away from my lips
and into my hair
at the same time.

Is it?

Falling in love
is not
loving
is not
being in love
is not
being loved
is not
making love
is not
love

Quietess

Pieces of hair
fall onto paper
and form squiggles
snakes, S’s, and curls
slithering smoke, rising above the line of a city
from a puffing
cigar in the skyline.

Drab Purples

There are
the metal wound strings
crossing the wood
that used to be living
housing squirrels
or perhaps the wood
lived without squirrels
but not without leaves
falling
dropping
every autumn
after rains come
before the snow
autumn
when we died
when leaves die
and snow shows itself for the first time
like that first time
when I showed you
with eyes newly opened
like babies’ eyes
a new world
or did you show me
a world
not so black and white
full of tones of gray
and cherry
or was it rose
shielding all wrong
from me
I couldn’t see you then
as you are
living
as the wood was living
used to live
with leaves
hanging
not falling
as snow from the sky

Those of yours

Iridescent aperture of
the warmest of petrified amber
illustrious essence of
yellow-brown painted, inside with
gold flecks of leaves- green, originally, reflecting
hinting unknowns
the uncold stone unhidden
illustrious, open
doubled-
Those beauteous twins
staring.