Midst Wishes

A human wish is not a wish

But a memory

Or a thought

Or a preconceivedness

When we eat our stomachs screams for it

When we think out thoughts are not of this

And when we dream we wake from our lovers wish

What am I

And

What more is this

?

The poet and the physicist

The genius and the wordsmith sit

Near feet away from each other's midst

.........

Entangling numbers, words, and lists

Each dance a dance of uniqueness

With a talley perhaps he circles that

With a Tanka I scratch some lines like this

.........

As there each with his own peculiar wits

How the genius and the wordsmith sit

Five feet apart

She Is

I think at last that as she is

Such a one consistent to exist

From within how nature does select

The seas with rolling temperament

And with ease that wind can only match

Such gliding figures as a river whisp

Neath chaotic willows wavering dress

Her flowers grew out of random grass

Like starlight cold yet burning fast

Still hot as coals beneath stoked ash

She is none and yet most all of this

For a woman is my opposite