He and I Are Both Poets

First Admitted Confusion Part I

 I will close my mouth

I will taste your eyes

Not owning 

 Never owning you

                              or meaning to

And I will not exhaust

why on,

   ‘you simplify’

                    or

Desolate the superlative

 That makes me think:

 Better

        Forever

 And here am I putting to self interrogation what you will already accept 

  I am not the lesser?

 I cannot grasp it when you

Write it all on one line?

 The travel it takes

the destination

 My taste buds are off

They were the compass

Wetter than ever and yet

In the midst of your letters dry

 But you are where they would call there

 Now having your eyes

Can you hear I’m here?

 So borrow them to me

Let me taste them

So I may never waste a word again

 And I will let you lick my left hand

 And you will write oceans

 And I will interpret them into short waves upon the sand.

 (I wish for you to join me in cerulean but that is not somewhere I can)

Gifting The Sky

I wish I could gift you the sky

I wish God gave me bigger hands

hands like his

I know they all say it all blurry sounding cliché

stolen from true poets, when they meant it,

“I see the stars in your eyes”

(thinking not of stars at all but sheets and dirty ones at that)

but really I wish I could gift you the sky

I’ve seen many of them

like people; like faces

like strangers that became close

because I saw them and now I know them but I cannot go back or write or call a sky.

Sometimes I wish I could gift you the sky.

Those skies that seemed like gifts to me when I first saw them.

Undoing,What?

The

drop of piano

drink

undoing melody.

II. The traits

that make us

hate snakes

and company.

III. You said it was rancid

he said it was ripe

paper pavement

cried night.

IV. A bush was booming

then a bush was burning

and not on nothing holy.

V. If we’re not hate looking at itself

what are we?

For Aaron

Let me make you beautiful.

A carving a mountain rounds above your eyes.

Please be my Pygmalion.

Sometimes you face falls like storms beneath me.

Shake to contemplate the thickness of your fingers.

My mouth is hungry for your hands.

Even that hair that hides what time has yet to take screams to hold it back.

A response, an eye, my dry answers are full of cascading stars glowing around you.

Necessity yelled in two bodies yours and mine (but you have yet to know)

I am silent not because I fear rejection. You cannot reject me.

I fear the depth that sits like a bird ready to spread her wings in all directions under the color of your music.

Starting and Why

I have posted my poetry on YouTube:

www.youtube.com/hartpoet

but there is only so much I can do there. I really would like it if I could kind of have a poetic diary. So this blog is about beginnings and examining over a period of time hence the “Time” and the gift for writing are the “Wings.”