the poet is loose

i have meditated on what, specifically
i am looking for in a man.
sparks. wind in my veins, fire.

it hasn't happened often
enough, you can tell with a kiss

i like eyes. eyes
can catch you   make you
fall simultaneously

dark pools
bright waves
skies


so but what
about the rest is there more?

behind the eyes lies
mind; inside, soul.

he must have a soul.


broken bleeding wounded snarling
passionate living joyful laughing
he must not be perfect he must not be
captain of the football team, the one cheer
leaders want  the one who has been given
 too much to understand sacrifice. he will break
himself over time, wrongheaded
pebble in the stream.  he will be gonzo
journalism and worker bee.


he will eat philosophy with wry bread
he will love without fear he will belong to me
and i will belong to him and we will lie
together to the rest of the world and tell them
we are busy, yes busy but lying
 in a hammock, doing nothing
but exploring the stars together.