Best Girlish Poems

Passing through framed windows like ours,
I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends
that burned your innocence at 21... and though
you claimed flashes of...

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Dream-worker 
delves deeply into my dream;

vibrations fondle anticipation
foreplay wakes wide-eyed 
swells of liquid libido quake the rendezvous edge -
a primordial being in his prime
a masculine...

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Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes  
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra 
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the...

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Pigtails loosen yet messed, 
twisted by pliant fingertips
of evening’s devilry…  
tracing her budding breasts,
embers gleam from a lamplight, dim…
his jerked breathing quickens to rake...

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The murmur of winds urges me
to ride past new moon’s seasons …
it’s not joy I shall feed on;  no, perhaps
a more raw wildfire: a...

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I drown you in wine, the goddamn squatter 
who lives in me. Flow, Lethe, dark and deep!
But even through a drunken dreamless sleep,
like a nude...

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Waking up, in a light gray four poster bed.
With flowers and ribbons, painted
on the ceiling above my head.
.
Satin slippers and a robe, so soft.
A young...

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“Who am I,” asked the Bunyip. “What am I doing here?”
“Please tell me,” begged the Bunyip,” for my purpose isn’t clear.”

“No answer!” came the stern...

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I am jealous
of everything that has ever touched you,
the breaths of hot sunshine that have soothed your cheeks with hope,
the moonlight that has painted your...

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Luneta, I used to almost venerate you once
but glassy skyscrapers have put you away…
still, I kept the fragrant lawns deep in my bones,
with Muppet tricks...

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He had watched her for two years
patiently waiting for her to grow up.
He knew all her movements, what
made her laugh, all of her moods.

Soon now...

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I miss you at the start of every day
I miss you when the stars come out to play
I miss you in the languid afternoon
I miss...

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The second coming of age,
is like the 
softened beauty 
of the color  s a g e;
rich in mellowed warmth
graced with shades and shines of...

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She held on to her blue jeans
From our younger, college days
With peace signs painted on each back pocket
And that worn-almost-every-day fade

But thirty years and four...

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She walks away.

Girlish and glorious
laughter
floats
through air
like a kite on a string
that pulls
tautly slipping through tightened fingers,
burning a little,
and slicing through 
if ever left unattended,

so preciously...

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