In the realm where silence reigns supreme,
Where shadows dance in a mystical dream,
There lies a place of enigmatic grace,
Where Gnossiennes whisper secrets, embrace.

Through veils of time, they softly call,
Echoes of ancient rhythms enthrall,
In subtle hues of twilight’s glow,
Their melodies in quietude flow.

Like whispers carried on a gentle breeze,
Their essence lingers, elusive, at ease,
Each note a tale of forgotten lore,
Unraveling mysteries, begging for more.

In their cadence, a language unknown,
A symphony of the soul, finely honed,
They speak of journeys through the night,
Of stars that guide with ethereal light.

In the depths of silence, they reside,
Where the soul’s yearnings softly abide,
Gnossiennes, guardians of the unseen,
Unveiling truths in the spaces between.

So let us listen with hearts attuned,
To the melodies of the mystic’s rune,
For in their whispers, we may find,
The keys to unlock the secrets of mind.

:: 02.20.2024 ::

HOW lovely is love
in its purest form
a symphony of souls
weathering life’s storm

Please, give time
a break a wall clock
give me a hand
to make two hands _ love

I love what I have tasted
Is a vibration poisonous
and why do i evaporate
when love decays?

I hate to fight
I hate to eat
I hate being alone

But in my seat
everyone sits
upon my Soul

my tongue Napoleon
loving war and love

How i love chocolate
with popcorn
Waves over me sea
breeze soul formations

yellow carnations

Sip upon my words
drink my escape
rebel hearts purple
dying to live again

i’m running
i’m running
from my life

[….]

How the love never leaves

no wonder how it lives

because of you

How love cannot die! –

many then met their doom

with crystal tears

facing the moon upon their

backs in Spring’s fallen foliage

As seasons, tender–aged but bright

• so brief.

Love cannot die!

How two hands held by two can become

a bright light ; love is how it survives

the grave:

Only a last sigh before the treasure of

Heaven.

:: 02.15.2024 ::

CAVATINAS DIE ON YOUR LIPS

I.

Walking upon a river side upon concret
–Oh how beautiful was that night
i saw a caraciature running alongside
my heart

Made of crayola it ran across the way
i’d not drank beer nor lemonade
but the cafe was noisy so i ventured.

Lindens smell good on fine June nights.
Sometimes the air is so sweet that you close your eyes;
The wind brings sounds—the town is near—
And carries scents of vineyards and beer…

II.

—There, framed by a branch
You can see a little patch of dark blue
Stung by a sinister star that fades
With faint quiverings, so small and white…

June nights! Seventeen!—Drink it in.
Sap is champagne, it goes to your head…
The mind wanders, you feel a kiss
On your lips, quivering like a living thing…

III.

The wild heart Crusoes through a thousand novels
—And when a young girl walks alluringly
Through a streetlamp’s pale light, beneath the ominous shadow
Of her father’s starched collar…

Because as she passes by, boot heels tapping,
She turns on a dime, eyes wide,
Finding you too sweet to resist…
—And cavatinas die on your lips.

IV.

You’re in love. Off the market till August.
You’re in love. —Your sonnets make Her laugh.
Your friends are gone, you’re bad news.
—Then, one night, your beloved, writes…!

That night… you return to the blinding cafés;
You order beer or lemonade…
—No one’s serious at seventeen
When lindens line the promenade.

:: 02.13.2024 ::