songs about women



i sing for no one. in

dreary days of autumn

i fall to words and let

the trials of mankind

collapse around me.

the perfect purchase

of black shadows and

solemnity, of teeth

breaking and fillings


i sing ... i sing to

trees and beauteous

nature, and they sing

back with soft wind

and rustling leaves.

i sing to no one. they

who are closest are

still behind glass, under

water and floating slowly

into the light.


caught between a flash of love and a hard place.

we broke before i knew because no one knew, and now i am tossed

and turned, sail unfurled during the storm, my captain

adrift among froth and tide.

and she. what of she? what of women?

they attack like unknowing succubi, to kiss with

tender lips, choke out adoration with the pump

of their hips.

and we, ridiculous men, full of blood and rampant

do nothing, blinded by sexuality.



i find

is the beat

of my heart.

the ventricles


and pull logic



there was a point in

the night, (before i passed

out from lack of oxygen), where

she, naked, as was i,

lay stomach down, head just

above the water, stretched out

among the bubbles of the hot tub.

the mist and steam from the water was


in and of itself, but then, she

lifted her butt up, so that it

gently curved above the water. this,

coupled with her hair, bundled up

and curly against her head, was probably

one of the most attractive things

i have ever seen. it was beauty

beyond beauty, like some roman goddess

bathing herself in the steambath.