Cook Book (Draft 3)

Cook Book (Draft 3)

I had been trying to be a shooting star
in some quadrant of the sky where she’d
been dreaming of me I hope, and then
she found me in my favorite coffee shop, and
I knocked over my coffee cup, but
she smiled when I touched her hand, and
I watched her finish a morsel of food
as if it were me and she said don’t worry.

I bought a cook book
and invited her over
And I loved when I made her apple pie
even though I prefer cherry and peach
just because she noticed my cinnamon

and she wanted to teach me
how to bake love

so I so much wanted
her to be the chef
if we could cook together.

But I didn’t mind, because
we were both taking off our hats
and stirring thoroughly naked in the sauce

— Douglas Gilbert

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If We Were A Storm (Draft 0)

If I Were A Storm (Draft 0)

Sometimes I feel like even the wind
can’t hear me, and I’m going to blow away

Oh I wish when the wind listens
it swiftly carries many swooshy messages to you
because I believe we are a hurricane
waiting to happen, or a tornado

This could be the twist
that is manifest when
your hot front
meets my cool façade
and we’d be such a gentle storm
that the mix would be a bliss

— Douglas Gilbert

Cook Book (Draft 2)

Cook Book (Draft 2)

I had been trying to be a shooting star
in some quadrant of the sky where she’d
been dreaming of me I hope, and then
she found me in my favorite coffee shop, and
I knocked over my coffee cup, but
she smiled when I touched her hand, and
I watched her finish a morsel of food
as if it were me and she said don’t worry.

I bought a cook book
and invited her over
And I loved when I made her apple pie
even though I prefer cherry and peach
just because she noticed my cinnamon

and she wanted to teach me
how to bake love

so I so much wanted
her to be the chef
if we could cook together.

But I didn’t mind, because
we were both taking off our hats
and stirring thoroughly in the nude sauce
helping each other crush
the spices in a giant vat with
our bodies letting juices ferment

— Douglas Gilbert

Cook Book (Draft 1)

Cook Book (Draft 1)

I’m trying to be a shooting star in some quadrant of the sky
where she looks and dreams of me, and
finds me in my favorite coffee shop. Despite
me being startled and knocking over my coffee,
she smiles when I touch her hand, and
I watch her finish a morsel of food
as if it were me and she says don’t worry.

I bought a cook book
and invited her over
And I loved when I made her apple pie
even though I prefer cherry and peach
just because she noticed my cinnamon

and she wanted to teach me
how to bake love

so I so much wanted
her to be the chef
if we could cook together.

But I don’t mind, because
we are both taking off our hats
and stirring thoroughly in the nude sauce
helping each other crush
the spices in a giant vat with
our bodies letting juices ferment

— Douglas Gilbert

Dahlia (R 9)

Dahlia (R9)

Success is exciting to share,
newest growth of blossom from afar

I love translating her messages when I wake up in a foreign land:
she said her newest Dahlia flower was so pretty in the morning,
my favorite blue sky color in the background, and I thought

she’s so pretty in the morning if she swirls around the innermost petals,
has an epiphany about the yellow middle of a Dahlia sun, and if
while I’m away, she takes a soapy long shower, listens
to the birds I’ve sent to chatter with her until I’m back,
pampers herself like she deserves, puts on some makeup,
looks at herself in the mirror and thinks of me as present
in the chirpy birds and wavy flowers of the day, or
at least I imagine she’s an extrapolation-ist, because
I imagine much about soft things and I think she knows
that certain bees don’t sting if I sent them

— Douglas Gilbert

Imaginary Songs (R 8)

Imaginary Songs (R 😎

I don’t know why the frog imagines it can sing like a bird –
too ambitious, and I don’t know why

the bird imagines it can catch flies
as well as a long-tongued frog

It seems like they’d
rather speak if they could
than eat worms and flies
because one endures a swampy storm in the sky
with flying tornado hamburgers, and

the other awaits a flying chocolate-ant optimism
about flying lily pad carpets

— Douglas Gilbert

Rainbow (Draft 1) (R 8)

Rainbow (R 8+)

What will I do that’s better than the sun,
something in a rosy mood of you who
loves the ephemeral but

I don’t feel like your favorite sunrise
because I am the blue of the rainbow
and can not be as radiant as all the colors

But I think you like my one
particular color, because
I feel like
I belong to sunshine

— Douglas Gilbert