IN the depths of thoughts we go as we are in night
of long lists, in the night like a pisces; your slient
silence-sign screams — come // lodge me in your back
\ in your mirror, suddenly, memories, solitary,
nocturnal pane: bleeding from the knife in the dark
Flower of sweet summer wind
total light bring my calling
upward to your mouth of kisses,
bleeding from separation
(silent private) words.
Now, then I breathe your breath
as though we made sex catching our
heartbeats. It is what the dark night preserves.
Welcome me, broken hammock in a threadlike evening
when at dusk the sun surprises a sky star eye
within my skull — twinkles filled with win.
No surprise. Substance glues my eyes.
Madrigal thoughts inside music — an invitation
what the last breath of Love preserves//inside
a cedar box\ deep substance down to me,
smothering my eyes, your hyperExistence cuts
across me, wondering if my human heart is destroyed.
Little baby feet patter across the garden of
your Highness \ and an exiled mouth bites the flesh
and the grape, i lick the blood from the cuts of
baby breath: my hair made of madness and from sun’s
depth — the tick-tock clock face, of systematic
sings the fallen angels:
“Madrigal as baby Feet.”
within a cedar box.
:: 10.20.2020 ::
\Into that fire so brief, death:
an organ untuned-Springfest, the last…
we spoke-tear; oh dear —
gave console to eternal words
not from fear!
i have a perfect stain & you
beauty-cry and ate the heart:
my resolve strong an arm upon
my heart cascading tears-girl
(does she know?) that
love and life demand
joy, fear, life, & love?
her dress ddrips blood
so long dreams sang the phantoms
in the skies — here comes life!
:: 03-12-2014 ::
My heart has asked of me, by the stream
it asked of me:
(What feelings are if anything, truth.)
Do the trees sing their songs
when the wind blows?
The spider web sways but maintains.
When your legs are moving along life’s
twisting paths, do I (your heart)
speak softly to you?
The witness are the clouds above you.
As the tears come who sees your
shadow hide behind the rocks?
The falcon’s call of nothingness,
that spins your mystery.
And sunrise is a wondrous gift
and sunset but a promise.
:: 11-25-2018 ::
listen. Of hearts that sing —
wailing aside. Better if eyes
could taste the color love
And in flight with bee
a passionate kiss from thee!
:: 10-15-2018 ::
THE visitor denied a knock
upon the weathered oak
— of my door
Startled firstly by the sight
this a visitor standing
— upon my floor
His travels did surely age
such genteel features
— ancient eyes so brilliant
Before great solidity I almost spoke
then instinct took me whole
— hush and listen to the voice
The words — before he left — were wisdom
a gift beyond most priceless treasure
— fair well my friend…
and hope we meet again
:: 01-24-2014 ::