I will indulge the unconventional.
On a mossy hill behind a mock castle
we will read Aristophanes to harems
of nymphs as they strum their Lyre for you.
While you transform words into wings
flitting the hearts of lovers I will
contemplate the perfect angle of your face,
breathe the amber resin of pine that
permeates our senses.
There in the unruffled pools of your eyes
I will die just a little.
give me your story
minute as a wish on a star
Did you run through blowing
wheat fields your yellow hair flying
those secrets of the heart
give them to me
I am swallowed up longing
When you fall I form a scar
read to me of love and life
those petals closing in the dark
stay lest I fade away.
In dreams my
spirit guide is a Peregrine Falcon
with wings open wide still
she never flies through ancient
pathways filled with wood
and dark amber resin
even in dreams she concedes
she is not a bird but never
art by Karol Bak
From the train window I can see miles of Pines, they seem to go on forever. There’s a golden wolf howling at the moon, chanting to the midnight Gods. By morning that will give way to Palm trees and screeching Cicadas. Tonight the stars reveal the belly of the world that we all come from. What I have left is a photograph. Tell me night-time dreamer, why you hold so many secrets in your heart. When we look into each other’s eyes
all we see is star dust.