///i miss you since you went out for that walk. its been thirteen months since may///

I have perceiv'd that to be with those I like is enough,
To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,
To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,
To pass among them, or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment—what is this, then?
I do not ask any more delight—I swim in it, as in a sea.

There is something in staying close to men and women, and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well;
All things please the soul—but these please the soul well.

(whitman)

i remember dates; glances

i remember opening my eyes

like a spy in the night

while you kissed me

just to watch you move around my face

with such beauty and such grace

otherwise absent from you

i remember conversations with our eyes;

smiling and laughing at nothing

because you gave me that giddy school girl feeling

otherwise absent from me

i remember writing poetry

into your soft back with my fingers

as you sighed deeply into my neck

and then kisskiss; peckpeck

i remember hours of makeup

and picking out outfits

i remember long baths

and using only a certain shampoo

for nights with you

But most of all dear

i remember the way i felt

so completely whole

when you laid upon me

i remember feeling the weight of you

but not being bothered

because it felt as if

the void was finally being filled

that was the night i made you stay longer,

just for that feeling

remember?

lovers stop, but they never stay

opening our bodies
discovering lost
staircases and
lovers rooms

everyone i meet has been broken by someone else

how i long to be broken,

just to know i was wanted loved and hard to lose

(i am wanted used and discarded)

i have just realized

that i hate everything.

Men say they know many things;

But lo!

The wind that blows

Is all that any body knows.

(thoreau)

                                                                            stay awake baby,

you might fall out of love if you fall asleep...

i often wonder

what it would be like

if i was to unexpectedly be

shot

sitting on a bench.

waiting in a line.

end of poem.

facing my wine

unaware of darkness growing

falling flowers

cover my robes

drunk, i rise

step on the moon

in the creek-

birds are turning back now

men too are growing fewer

(li po)