Softer Surfaces To Write The Name Of That Song On

By Alexander Michael ZiperovichImage

Eat the moon like it’s a cookie, dine on stars like cherries from a pie,

Believe you me, you won’t find nothing sweeter way up in the sky,

Unless I wrote some words…

just a couple I guess

I could write them on a sunset or perhaps a sunrise in the West,

Or wait,

            I could start the whole poem over and write it right above your head in the clouds,

But what if it rained? Would the sound of my heart beating down be too loud?


Hmmm, maybe I could find a big blue sky with wispy clouds where I could write all the things I think about, and I think aloud so follow me now, when I think of how it might be to know your sound, to see how your river flows and how you might feel if I asked you if you like writing on everything you see, and might you let me show you how?


Oh no, I’ve left the night sky untouched with paint and that’s an issue, grab a tissue, because I’ll be writing love ballads from now until your fifty two or three, depending on if they work and I have a good understanding of the love whom I’m composing them for and most critically, if she also loves me…


There is always the sun, which is my favorite thing to etch my verses on,

            The earth is gone but we’re in a song and it is hot and it is long, I won’t cancel,

                        If you come too, I’ll call the song “I love you”-beautiful harps get tangled,

                                    But love’s pure perfect, you let me write it than you can sing it,

                                                Your voice is soft like a kitty kat, so sing me that song, what was it called? Something about my eyes hug you? Or the sigh above you?

Now I remember,

We called that song I wrote, “I love you.”

A Garden Filled With Perfect Red Roses

By Alexander Michael Ziperovich

Her form beguiling, plush cashmere & my hands want to speak to her body when I’m near

Touching her feels like swimming through the sun, snatching stars from the sky

She pulls me in like the tide, deep into her ocean until I’m on my back, floating.

Sigh, she’s cute but she hates that compliment, she requires hot but prefers beautiful

She might not know everything there is to know about her, I’m ruthlessly truthful

She might read all the books on her shelves but know it’s a sin to hide beautiful.

I know she doesn’t know entirely what she’s made of but she flies like a smiling dove

You can tell because she tries hard to prove she won’t succumb to all of the love

She’s that one girl I saw once in a dream, the holy trinity in a human being.

She smells, feels naturale & her curly hair is alive & proud, tinted dark & quietly loud

I love teaching her to kiss & she has seemed not to have had a man before

Some children to play with, whatever lays in her dreams until she slams the door.

Flower eyes, blooming at me all sparkling sentiment, eyes so pure they’re mentionless,

Her innocence as aphrodisiac, I want to steal it for me & let love unfurl relentless,

Raw beauty here competing with idiosyncratic fears of unveiling her soul to bare that are senseless.

She’ll look at the sun until she goes blind & she’ll move her body in unison with mine

She’ll look at sky on her back in grass with me after she realizes how little time

she has with me.

I’ll break through her neuroses & make her bloom as she flows with me, a river

running fast past rocks & cold water that quivers, much like her exterior, she’s got so much inside her yet she

can’t figure out how to decisively deliver.

There is no manual in being you & she’s plenty of beauty & art, words & heart all true

Let go, darling & I’ll lead you by the hand, you won’t know where we’re going but it won’t be anywhere bad

That’s part of the plan, excited, scared, crushing mountains & you breathe sweet aromatic air from the garden that is your new land.

Astonished & astonishing & I love how she moves on top of me, she’s got that thing

I’d like to teach her about life & let her emerge from summer into her spring

She might dance away from the insanity, the reality of it all, after all it’s hard to

take the first step knowing you’ll fall but the wind will catch you & you’ll float down to a new place,

you’ve dreamt of a call to break down your walls & you might feel just a bit faint but I’m there too

so just hang on to me, saint, & remember it’s just a marvelous, disparate fate that awaits you

& refuse to be scared & refuse to be anything but Allina & write your delicious, brilliant Sestina & let it fly out into the air

like a gust of wind carrying a naked poem written on paper, drifting toward the sky in flight for paradise sacred.

I don’t shy away from something cut from such exquisite cloth thus I write so as to provoke

your thoughts, you are a bottle brimming so full its glow is a fire burning hot & unassailable,

there is no cruelty in your eyes & I hope the world can experience her miracles on

which rest the fate of the beauty of our lives and the beauty of men,

feel the shamelessness of you because being unafraid yourself, babycakes, breaks down

prison walls that might otherwise leave you stranded on the other side instead of coming with

me to levitate & fly through the streets at night as we work on finding the origins of

that beautiful mysterious shiny effervescence within

your lovely eyes…

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