I cannot harken a lamp post
For I do not know any
I cannot hear the sound of swaying wheat
For I have never felt it’s rustling velvet
I fear the ocean
So I will not sing its praises
A bird perched on a branch
Does not excite a metaphor
Nor does a tassel of hair
Loosen my creative palate
A murmuring sound
From the alley
Does, however,
Elicit dreams from mud
A misdirection, a pregnant pause,
Calls for exuberance
A fleeting gesture, a goodbye
Allows for exultation
A denial, an awkward kiss
Are legends eternal
And the pace is quickening
To a sickening speed
Innocence is lost
On contact
With the air around the mother’s womb
Insight is gained
With each awful glance
From my deprived neighbor
Undressing my soul from my body
I am certain of salvation
For I have seen creation
In those brown eyes
I have felt condolence
In your choking hair
Your body
Waiting to be engulfed
I have listened to that feminine snore
And wondered aloud
If I sound the same
I have whispered in your ear
And found you reticent
I know nothing is an accident
Way leads on to way
I know the leaves scattering before my feet
Leave nothing to chance
All points lead
Me
In your general direction