He Thinks of Me

Beneath my bed a treasure's
head flew in my window
on moon beam breath
it placed its light against
the post and swallowed
all that it
thought it lost
a dream of sheen and brilliant jewels
beneath a pillow filled with fools
was hot as flight
as firelight
you led me with a staff of light
I left behind the skin and knew to follow you
to follow you
for you were me
and we were who we were as
one

Your arms of light surrounded me
a kiss so bright a melt of fleeting snow
a light
my heart is tight
a drum for you
You sang and
clipped my wings for you
so all could see in dreams
in dreams
where thoughts of green
are imminent
as honey kisses in my tent.
Your arms, a touch like
rivers, have the start at
my toes
in all of mellow rain
my heart in pain
my heart again
in dreams in dreams we're here as fauns
alone it seems then it is gone
sweet memory
of all it be
return to me
return to we

the mellow night was strewn
with tools
left by the worker
overnight
to glean some billows
of fire light
back from a tryst
his empty fist
was flown to bits beneath
his wrist
 as chards
for choices meant
as some
would think
one foolish
clowns that run
no paint upon
a landscape's face
no drink before a long horn race
is run by one who wears the hat of
lowered masts and knowing that,
he turned to gaze upon his watch
and found a trace of moon
to block the Sun
And with his breath
a plum fell off his rippled tree
And as he bites,
upon his knee
he thinks of me.