A heart can fall like a suicide descending shades of midnight frozen blossoms on an icy lake a silent breeze of despair Let my tongue flirt like a butterfly among wildflowers rather than polish scars de-bride old wounds
In this dream I turn to you and
light my cigarette from the glowing
tip of yours.
I propose we fly away.
Your dark eyes whip my mind
into arousal and your elegant hand
on my thigh turns me soft inside.
Your breathing is a sigh against
my ear that whispers my hair
and crimson lips so near devours
Against waves of joy and sadness
dreams are always what it could
Suddenly hares chase foxes
and Roebucks hunt hunters and
to shield me from the terror you
hold me within bleak arms.
Your winter coat lies where we once lay on the bed of a decaying forest
the silence is as hard as pounding hooves or soft as the moon rising
in your kingdom of stars.
Gurkski’s ” Il me faut t’abandonne”
“Come dusk is when my mind walks out
from where I fence myself in,
my dark room of nightly delights where
I encounter her, my queen of all things blue
and we fight right from the start
To make me love her even more.
I place the hands of my heart to gather
my hunting spirit, follow her footprints
into our forests of love and war.”
Von Liebe und Krieg — Of love and war
Translation to German by Bernd @ Neues Vom Hutschi
NICHT BEREIT DAFÜR REISE ICH,
UM ZU ÜBERLEBEN,
DURCH ERINNERUNGEN, DIE SICH EINFINDEN,
DA LIEGT DEIN WINTERMANTEL,
WO EINST UNSERE RÜCKEN WAREN,
HALB BEGRABEN IM FALLENDEN SCHNEE,
JETZT VERROTTEN SIE ZWISCHEN ZAPFEN UND NADELN.
DER WALDBODEN RIECHT NACH BRENNENDER KIEFER
UND STILLE IST WIE DER KLANG STAMPFENDER
HUFE ODER SANFT WIE DER ZUNEHMENDE MOND
IN DEINEM REICH DER STERNE.
AUSZUG AUS GURKSKIS „IL ME FAUT T’ABANDONNE“
„KOMM, DÄMMERUNG IST, WENN MEINE GEDANKEN FORTWANDERN,
VON DA, WO ICH MICH EINZÄUNE,
MEIN DUNKLER RAUM NÄCHTLICHER FREUDEN, WO
ICH IHR BEGEGNE, MEINER KÖNIGIN ALLER BLAUEN DINGE,
UND WIR KÄMPFEN VON ANBEGINN,
DASS ICH SIE NOCH MEHR LIEBE.
ICH NEHME DIE HÄNDE MEINES HERZENS
EINZUFANGEN MEIN JAGENDES WESEN, FOLGE IHREN SPUREN
IN UNSERE WÄLDER AUS LIEBE UND KRIEG.“
You want her to be real
A half smile curve of lips
a glide of a hand through hair
You want to be her clothes
falling as she unfolds to the
sound of heels on a marble floor
her feet have formed the shape of her
shoes and when she arches her back
she soars as high as imagined
wings can fly.
art by Luigi Quarti “fallen angel”
I am touched
by a storm
the tongue of a
fire that burns
A tide crashing
into millions of
becoming the sun.
My heart is ripe
like summer fruit
sweet juices flushing
There is a storm circling
the pit of my stomach rising
to ache in my throat.
Steve Hanks art
I will always disappoint you
my verse is no where near roses
pigment stained and tear smudged
overflowing with sudden downpours
a spiraling monsoon that can
not be held back with the tenderest
I tell lies lovingly
each line a litany of devotion
or a buzzed serendipity.
I will fall in love with the sleeved
heart of every poet.
Save me from obscurity, give me a purpose
sugary rose petals or the embryo
of a pearl washed ashore.
When I found you
I was not searching
beautiful and wild
our lids heavy with desire
we sipped Santiago raindrops
from our cupped tongues.
Tears of salt-rose fell from my eyes
at the hour of your departure and
my heart became a dying bird
it’s wings unfastened and open.
Night on the Island
by Pablo Neruda
I have slept with you
and on waking, your mouth,
come from your dream,
gave me the taste of earth,
of sea water, of seaweed,
of the depths of your life,
and I received your kiss
moistened by the dawn
as if it came to me
from the sea that surrounds us.
By morning I have renamed us when I speak a thousand thrumming wings escape my throat those crimson wounds you have christened with your hands a forgiveness I can believe in I've etched your voice in memory so not to forget the glossy sound of humming wings when you speak Your eyes orbit above me brilliant satellites so that I may dream free of shadows. I've pared us down forgotten what I knew of love and when I try to speak a thousand wings catch at the cache of my throat.
I step back from the light
into the dark
my wife rocks
herself to sleep
in my favorite chair.
On the beach
I want to fly but fall like
a silent prayer.
My limbs are an anchor
as I slip beneath the surface.
Once struggling palms lie flat
as gentle waves rock me.
Seaweed strands of hair mingle
with the sigh of my breath,
I grasp the hands of my
my only thing of value.
Everything beautiful is here,
all that was lost.
Birds chorus to the stones that
mark the resting place of a
thousand warriors in an
estuary of flowers.
art by Abel Tasman
Come the days when we
reach back into seas of
pinpoint diamonds where like
globes of fire we spun through
glimmering heavens yielding
only to the pull of hearts.
Now the dew falls from our eyes
Not from the sky, the tide pulls
outward and mountains lose
their foothold but a new sun
is rising and we are touched by
the tongue of deepening wisdom
and burning indignation.