I like

I like that book over there. the one that's your favorite. I like what you see when your eyes are closed. things seem clearer to you that way. I like those pants you can't get rid of and the late night poetry readings you secretly go to. (you have no reason to hide this, but you just like secrets.) it's something to call your own, I suppose. I like that you told me your secret, cuz that means that I have entered in. i hope you are getting ideas for my love poem, though. (simply because I can't think of a good reason why you haven't asked me to come.
(But I guess I just like hoping)

What happens after the voilets are blue part again?

I am sincerely infatuated with every little bit of what moves you
because I know that it is through these things that i get a brief glimpse of whatever it is that you see when your eyes are closed.

they are light and gentle and fluid, those things you see.
that's all I know. You are strong. stronger than me.
because if I knew more, it would kill me.

this is why i like the pants you can't get rid of.

Plum crazy/ If I should return. . .

I am absolutely yours
and plumb, plumb crazy
for your company
You musn't keep me wondering
Bring yourself
to mine.(which is yours)
which is not really either of ours
we belong to the sky. yep, you and me.
There is little sense to this poem.
But I did say that I was plumb crazy.
and I said plumb twice.
What is plumb crazy, anyway?
See what you do to me.

If I should return there (to where I had been)
I would come back different than I was
and separate from who I am now
traveling back in a self who knows
how to enjoy strawberries in
the month of June.
A self who has learned little from life except
how to begin again
every once upon a time a little more free than the last.
Perhaps I've finally fallen in love with
the person hiding inside of me.
ah, yes.

You beg me

You have loved what is cold
It is evident in your freezing eyes,
unable to cry
how awful that must be

A soul which cannot dance
Even though there is music everywhere
you are kept still, knowing the beat
and having legs to tend to it

What a sadness.
A great river of ice, your being
But you tell me not to cry on your behalf
but to laugh. laugh a lot. laugh wildly.
laugh with my eyes.
Because you say that it is in my laughter
that something breaks and melts within you

your one little toe begins to wiggle to a song
no one else hears.
"Please, love. . ." (you beg me to give you this gift)

And I, without hesitation look up at you
and fill myself up with a thousand firey giggles.

We are both glorious in this moment.