to her ladyship

a love poem written while handcuffed to the companion doll.

only when I smell your softened crayon cosmos does my hypothalamus;

ok, my orange crush, is why purity and fragility is,

with what little wisdom I have left,

too Lilliput for long sadness.

Not once at bedtime, my elbows propped on the

"MY Pillow" as if praying. Not from a single

locust swarm or a blast from

a single trumpet. Not from a single

pollen grain deposited by the wind

on the cheek of the sleeping Indian. I

too danced in live corn-ash insane by flowers,

A rave boy by trade, bouncing to the spit

of the tattered DJ with dreads

in the alleys of spent honey. Thorns?

Orgasms with blood? Sugar tampons

with our breakfast and your recent

book of poems:

beauty is a child drawing a house with

her knees crossed, mauve meadows,

lavender ponies with cropped tails,

twigs that  I mistook for donkey's with bells,

yet each time

the eternal Omarosa of samplings; the

miniature festivals we later found out were

roaches, pulling their unborn in heavy sacks

towards the unmappable world beneath us.

It is so true,

I've fallen hopelessly in love

with you.

Reviews

[Corset]

this is like the best love poem almost ever, even the self entitled fall in love from time to time, "Id" Omarosa demands it, poem, books, writers, purple ponies with butt plugs, all ...if we don't think we deserve it then maybe it won't be deserved, she's a very lucky girl to have deserved this poem.

[h d e rushin]

my dearest: poems come from me less frequently now of days.....because.....Well, just because. Thanks so much for you continued readership.....always in your footsteps....dana

[emmajoy]

'.. I too danced in live corn-ash insane by flowers, ~ A rave boy by trade, bouncing to the spit ~ of the tattered DJ with dreads ~ in the alleys of spent honey. Thorns? '

Hello, long time no see, my friend. Yet again you work against my simple understanding of language! Your thoughts are near extraordinarily discordant to me in my ordinary life and yet when i read and re.read, i realise that you just live, walk and love to a different and far more musical drummer than i! Your dreams just hold more space set magic cos - for sure your day to day certainly is. Your kind of love picks stones from a path and makes diamonds - truly beautiful ones.

Sighing into a fourth read, '.. beauty is a child drawing a house with ~ her knees crossed, mauve eadows, ~ lavender ponies with cropped tails, ~ twigs that.. .. '

[h d e rushin]

thank you dearest love for those warm comments...I've missed you terribly.....dana

[Lyn Anderson]

Gorgeous imagery that always makes me feel I am having tea inside a rave. Your thoughts meander through the world in such considered beats. Always with purpose and direction to lead us to our own conclusions. I love the thought of all the imaginary things we as children picked out of the grass ... just beautiful

[h d e rushin]

thank you Lyn for those kind words of encouragement my friend....dana

[jacob erin-cilberto]

crazy good imagery...haven't read you for awhile dana...wondering where you have been.

i will prop myself up on my "My Pillow" tonight and see if anything this good might come in terms of words.

and certainly "beauty is a child drawing a house"
children's versions are always so colorful and honest, aren't they?
and you show all of these everyday, almost seemingly mundane aspects of love....and you show why they become so special and just make us love even more.
j.

[h d e rushin]

as you can see my friend, i'm still around (although slightly) wishing upon stars and trying to color the earth...….thank you my friend....dana