MoMA i cannot give my children
away ||| the walls are lonely
crucifixes — flatSURFACES making
tears |/and\| resurgence of
ways i have died. ‘ Simply ‘ is
no word that exists in this
universe, dear. And infinity are
spaces between whole numbers;
ONE s t retched in2 a hope
of reaching outside the caveBONED
life of souls my dear. We only
have each other and my heart
aches i cannot feel any longer
than this:
*
i love you, too.
:: 07-01-2018 ::
Into the splendor
of the day’s sunlight
Into the tender fray
of love’s sight
I kiss you
I kiss you
I kiss you
We wander along
together ~
singing our song
So much stronger
falling in love
while dancing
to birdsong
And I don’t care
what the day may bring
as long as the bird’s
sing and the moon
brings me to you
I’ll always take
~ a chance
I’ll always sigh
~ a little sigh
while stealing
a little kiss
from my baby
While dancing with
my love within the
dreamy moonlight
And singing along
with the birdsong
all night long
:: 02-08-2018 ::
THAT i have hidden my flesh away
so no one touches it
i cannot hide the soul of me
without effort, it rises upon
its own
but the flesh speaks and yearns
to be with the remote love of you
there is nothing more to do
— it is sheltered.
And yet, aside from Soul the rest
is a noisy child wishing food
and i tell the child:
soon. soon.
:: 11-04-2017 ::
Passion! how are you named?
If fire then that is your touch;
but at times gentle too, softly
burning a moment.
The yearning is clearly spoken
with eyes and lips. And feelings
to run up the lane for all day.
Yet the sun follows feeding you.
Passion! how are you named?
If by heart then hear me now:
a torrential storm upon my mind
and white-capping waves in mine too!
Life is more mere than words as wine
the dew as red as beating hearts
we two incarnadined lips and souls,
passion is our name and nothing less!
:: 09-24-2017 ::
EMOTIONS are just no words
between the wind & just One
are the true feelings when
fleeing life’s seemingly
unjust pain!
AS like, oh tear-filled Soul!
With held-head high and heart
so sweepingly Low and the sky
weeps along with every broken
Spirit as the sun tending bent
stems in far-flung worlds
removes all barges of sand
-sadness against your heart.
And through your pain and
forgiving tears the soul clears
as blue as skies: exists
only for brevity of reprived
mortal pains!
And while the Earth apparently
stirs within mysterious ways,
you whom i shall never forget
who gave birth to love once
again (for me) the festival
is no longer a surprise as
i know your words like pillars
uphold my tender sensibilities:
and loveless life is treasonist
and the crime a punishment of
diminished returns!
:: 01-16-2017 ::
i dream in prose
my mind the inkwell
my life the quill
(so human)
i suppose the unreal
until and i feel
a certain disregard
here…
Until she; the waking
dream, comes to me with
a song
within her bosom
until then and then
i write my prose
(to the world) with
mind and suppose the unreal
until and i feel.
:: ~~ ::
LETTER III
Him To Her
IF a cloud becomes to large who moves it
to cry it’s nurturing tears upon the land?
And if a spiritual power is like a lover
then lovers are in the best company who
wear clothes called human skin!
Surely no sensible man would think a letter
written to you would coincidentally fall
upon your hands (without design) by a mutual
friend; each word i spoke in ink i try
to move away from any awakening
of our past misfortunes. Your nights are
lovely and quietly whispering of human
love; yet my passion has been under restraint
as thoughts in a bird cage wishing free air
to fly. Yet, i feel my passion makes me
sensible to its impressions and as the
caged bird as is my love for you i begin
to persuade my spirit it is a superfluous
trouble to break free my emotions for you.
i awoke this morning to a bright sun which
greeted me and then my heart which did shone
brightly casting shadows of doubt about
this love you embrace for evenings.
Let us share them? We can write things
in this night and sing and love another!
:: 08-07-2015 ::
LETTER II
Her to Him
THIS weather is cold and my fingers are acting old;
a friend happened last week to provide me with
a few papers of your ink written by both hand
and heart; this is purely my conjecture as i
believe it is true. As all these words i read
that entice my eyes somewhat like summer raining
on which are now icy fields of white and unforgiving
white. The complexity of love is dumbfounded by
both spirit and soul; and even though my volume
of thoughts could dry this ink well i say i wish
that i offer comfort to you my friend for a few
slight disgraces. i am both approachable but then
sometimes best at night when the evening has become
this very quiet lover you are challenging.
i wish you the best in this endeavor!
:: 08-07-2015 ::
BLUE, bleed :believing
be-loving me ~~ dear
who (no, What!) knows
ecstasy in those fields
where i ran reaching you!
no one here dear:
i saw the tree-line dance
and skies skip hours
and the sun, well, she
told me something only
women s ho uld hear!
and soil! Men! Men,
walk with me and
this <it is not for
me clearly to say>
these ?? one.
will come to tell our
own tale ~~ somewhere
i this far future ~~
THE ONE of words!
:: 0 7-0 7 – 2015 ::
