The Bathroom Chair

for Mark

Words and screen pulverized

percipient sky

delirious and debating

electric tides take shape

G to the Myrtle Willoughby

feet the guide

Your blocks

Your street

Your door

Your power

chimes three times

it’s empty, just

Nuestro tronito

some plants with breath

last i was there

gazes met

promises of infinite tomorrows

Ooooo Eeeee

nose against mine

my laugh in Your palm

broken beats hastening

A Love Of Our Own

Your smile on my shoulder

pitter patter purring lyrics

my mind a riot

patience taught You to read it well

body beats bangin b-sides

justifiable gutlessness

my feet on Your lap

sitting where we always sat

sealed with this

can i rewind, pause and play

tell all the ways

You opened this moon

a Voice that matters

to sing and bloom

made me want to forever stay

steppin toward the mirror

flesh, mind, and soul

calluses exposed

humming in Your ear

brows up

mouths tracing

giggles and sighs

walls caving in absence

if i light the candles

place the needle on the groove

somewhere between my alarm

and when i hit snooze

i’ll plunge into

such sweet sinful seascapes

the voice that beckons

where our skins collide

plans i scratch into

two bulls swaying at dusk

eyes open to a vacant bedroom

echoes of a future taken

curves of affection and torment

mind mangled majestic memories

determined rhythm inundated with

boundless grace

hands lifting me from winter

teacup empty but

left with gifts

compassion never erased

pride no longer a spell

glad You realized

Your hope was mine too

Siempre Sweet

Spencer Street

King,

let me always dream

With You