Sculptor

Take time with your
sandcastle
as you add to it,
condensing its structure with
salty Ocean's water
don't build too close to the
tides, they'll wipe us
clean off the coast

Cape Cod
cannot contain us
don't you wanna take
a trip to
Lackawanna Station
where Crackhead man
will tell us "Black is Bad"
and that he's
"curious as hell"
before cursing out an SUV
free-wheeling his way
almost to a vehicular
manslaughter
SPLAT, PANCAKE;
behold!! Crack-man
you've been
saved!!

Wouldn't you want
a getaway to the island of
Lost in your eyes
where my Wolf-woman and I
can wield through trees
like Jane and Tarzan
let's make nature our bitch
grab a bunch of
Platanos ripe, peel their
green exoskeleton and then
fry in a bubbling cauldron
so we can feed
one another maduros
o mofongo, and
be dos locos en paraiso
without a tock of clocks
we'll mold a life
with the sands of our
biologies combined

I would like to-
I mean, truly like to
write a Haiku
to express the emotions
which pump through me
for you
but I can't
control the flow
of words which spill,
every syllable from my
lips they spout-
soul to mouth,
it just Niagara
Falls out

Gonna put a ring on
that third finger from your thumb
the one which symbolizes
cyclical and eternal
Love
build an adobe hut
with the mud we
collect from our jungle
once monsoons soak
these sacred rain puddles
as the world swirls
whirlpools from our
Amazon flood

Won't get lost in the
shuffle-
just find stasis in
creation of
this forming, template of
a temple of 'US'

my future begins
and ends
with the clay
in your hands





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010