Thursday, November 18, 2010


The first time we spoke
Over a song. Over a joke.
Sudden friends

The very first spark
In a bus. In the dark.
But you didn't notice

Our first week across states
Couldn't stand it. Couldn't wait.
To see you again

Your first confession
Changing course. Confusion.
Pulse escalates

First kiss
Bliss. Bliss.
Heaven in your arms


when language like bubbling streams flow

when words are laid down to fit like lovers' hands

when you feel the essence of the poet from within

when swirling thoughts are caught in the net of rhythm

when images reel as you read

when pen and paper create a symphony

then, it is poetry