Didn't Cha Know?
They say 
the clothes make the man

but I disagree

Show me the glide

in his stride

and I'll tell you

Who he could be
I've never seen your gait

yet, I know you stand arrow straight

casting long shadows continents wide

I bet an exploration through your countryside

would give me the sweetest ride

along the confluence of your river's swells

into your Mississippi mud trails

I long to take a torrential dive
When I walk

my hips sway to the beat of my heart

swinging to a primitive rhythm

strong and steady

like the pendulum of a clock
Tic toc

Tic toc
I pound the ground

and command my space.

I feel the core of the earth

that ore smelts into my pores.
As I transpire, I respire elemental fumes,

The planet's mantle becomes my throne

its submission elevates me to places unknown
Now is my season

The world is mine

I am its reason

And it is my rhyme...
But I do not weight myself down with anchors
Nor ensnare the rare fish with word-bated hooks

I leave that to the erudite and the learned

I did not earn the bites

Of the polished apple I eat

From the wan yellowing pages

Of dust-ridden books
My knowledge is very limited

That's true

It ends with me

And begins again with you
But every education has its price

And such a heavenly body

Can make a willing study of any vice
My winnow window has

No need to hull the seed,

It will eat up every bit of your wisdom

with gleeful greed
What you call your rusty water pan drips

On my lips

And I lap up every sip

of its milk and honey
Your alley cat Kerouac 

Tickles my whiskers

Making me purr

Yes, I love

The way you stroke my fur
Paste me with your flypaper glue
Those sticky icky bits of you

ignite my wings

But I'll never burn free

I soar high in the sky every night

Carrying the essence of you with me
Like the white smoke of papal hope

Together we shall rise

anointed in the new
Tearing down the boundaries

of the real

making the miracles 
of the ancient's promises

come true
So Buon giorno, my favorite 
Stradivarius fiddler crab.

Yep, I am here like the mad wind
Trying to find the bind to lure you

from your sandy burrow

til you wave that big violin claw in the air

and shout "Hell to the yeah!".
Maybe I should make like the tide and hide

so that you feel the coast is clear

to come out here

flip your liquid golden lid

and feast on my fruits of le mar

with your fiddler on the roof sand dune glee.

Yessiree...

I do miss your bliss so very very muchly...
Guess I'll just leave you a shallow saucer

of moon milk out at night

with a flicker of candle for your alley cat-eye to sight
And keep my heartlight shining bright

til you phone home, ET...
Maybe I'll recede to give you the quiet

you sometimes seem to need...
But I know how hard you breathe

the stench of my sex is on you

all the relief that you seek

is the buried deep 
in the treasure that lies

between the fertile valley of my thighs
Ubermensch, I need an infusion of blood
For all this time I have patiently stood
Waiting

Negating

The other...

But no more!
I need succor

I wish to drink deep of your Nile

to be soothed by the groove of your ooze

but sans the ruse

which the clever Ra used

to slake the savage thirst

of a rabid Sekhmet

Oh no... 
THAT

Will never do...

not for this lion queen!
This connoisseur cannot be fooled
There is only one taste

I want to savor the flavor of

and that, my Zooma Zoom Zoom

of the Big Badaboom

pools in the cry of the "SPOON!"

that Ticks within the tattletale heart

of you
Eclipse me

Eclipse me
My man on the moon.