People who don’t understand each other
can only say enough to make things worse.
Or, I might say,
the woman whose hair was made from fallen leaves
could not love the man
with bees for fingertips.
A barn door closes.
Some leaves jump out. Some bees fly in.
“Don’t all men have bees for fingertips?” she would ask.
“Shouldn’t you be more like a flower?” He would respond.
Human History: Respectfully
bees, birds, desperate, desperation, discomfort, ease, fallout, happiness, hope, humans, lessons, love, lovers, lust, man, marriage, men, messy, naked, nature, nude, our time, peace, people, poem, Poems, poet, poetry, poets, punk rock, sadness, secrets, sex, symbols, time, truth, vulnerability, vulnerable, woman, women, working, writing
About Me
A poet-chef living in Denver, Co. I use the orange Aquafresh toothpaste, off brand mouthwash, and those little floss picks.
Daniel E Haislet 
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