Tag Archives: Tim Tipton

Escape artist

by Tim Tipton

You will be gone before I wake
I’m going to miss you.

Because that’s the way it goes.

I know your work, you are an escape artist.

If I tell you I love you
There goes my ride in the rocket
I will not chain myself to you, don’t worry.
Nothing dangerous will happen.

There will be no loving, I promise.

You are safe.


The sofa you sit on, the same
color as your eyes,
crimson, exciting.

The way you blush reminds me of a
sunset on a hot late afternoon in Spring.

The sky burns intense red, eucalyptus
stand majestically.

You slip off your red shirt like you
slip inside me, easy and fast.

Like a flame that consumes, then ignites me.

I am yours.

Searching For You

I am searching for you in April.

I am searching for you in California.
I am searching for you beneath a Cottonwood
tree rattling softly overhead.

I am searching for you on Red Wasatch glowing
                                    in the night.

I am searching for you crossing through creeks
on foot.

Traveling on sandy banks and smooth stones.

All I remember of you returns and in a flash
you are present in my mind‘s eye.
You are alive in Spring light into the winter
of all that is lost.

To fill my emptiness,
I search for you.