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I could write
poetry
about sunsets


minimize the words
let us feel the presence of being
make love to the phrases in your mouth
the thoughts kept as yours you will share


still above the trees
smirking
fall below the graves
pinker than any tongue speaking
ancient, we cannot understand
impatient, so we refuse


I could write
poetry
about nature

fall short to its beauty
let us feel its terror
stay warm in the arms of your lover
metaphors are useless to the minds of the forgiving

figurative speaking
the murder of simplicity
lower now, darkness creeps on you
philosophize your world
endings are always a forte
but to me they mean so little